Wife Swap
by muszka
Summary: Kink Meme fic. There's a TV show, where two families trade wives for two weeks, and the families learn something about themselves and how they can become a better family unit. Varied POVs, varied pairings. full request's inside.
1. Prologue: Finland's POV

**A/N:** I don't own Hetalia.

I dedicate this fic – with lots of love and appreciation – for my marvellous little sister, Nitzka. I hope you'd enjoy this, dear! ;D

**Original request: **"there is a TV show, where two families trade wives for two weeks, and the families each learn something about themselves and how they can become a better family unit. Typically the show takes families from extremes, like extreme conservative and extreme liberal, for the swap and the families find some sort of balance.

Basically, Anon wants to see two couples doing this, and how the families adjust to the changes involved. Anon's favorite couple is Sweden/Finland, so if they're included that would be extra-nice."

**Wife Swap**

**PROLOGUE - FINLAND'S POV**

"It doesn't make any sense. Why would anyone like to do such a thing?"

Finland looked at Denmark, who sat next to the kitchen table and rocked over his chair, even after the tenth time Finland warned him he might fall off. The latter grinned, "because it's on TV!"

"I don't know. I can't find any logic behind it," Finland sighed and turned his back to Denmark, continuing to cut the vegetables for dinner.

"It's simple," Denmark turned his torso to the younger's direction, putting an arm on table to support himself, "it's a programme that contacts couples from all over the world, and swaps them in order to let them discover new cultures or something like that." He paused for a moment, before he added in a sly grin, "c'mon, Finny. I thought you wanted to travel around the world."

"I do, but _this_ sounds bizarre. I don't even know why I even effort to speak with you about this."

"Why won't you give it a shot?" Denmark didn't give up. "I'm sure you'll enjoy this. You are the nicest guy on earth, they're gonna love you!"

Finland sighs, "I don't know." He paused. "What Sweden would say about this?"

"Oh!" Denmark jumped in his place, and fall off, emitting a painful groan as his body touched the floor. Finland hurried to him and helped him to get up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"I warned you, you shouldn't rock on chair like that," he noted.

"Yeah, whatever," Denmark returned to his chair, before he smirked. "I actually asked Sweden earlier. He said," Denmark's smile got even wider, "that's not a bad idea."

"Really?" Finland raised his eyebrow in suspect.

"Yes. He's about to return soon, isn't he? You can ask him yourself."

Finland sighed, ignoring him for the rest of the time before the front door opened and shut blown a moment after by a fierce wind carried from the storm outside. Soon, Sweden's low voice filled the space, "I'm h'me."

"S… Su-san!" Finland called, hurrying to greet his 'husband' for the moment he entered the room; the Swedish put his palm on Finland's shoulder and was about to bend to kiss him, when he eyed Denmark, who grinned from ear to ear. He straightened and turned his face to him, his palm is still on Finland.

They all stayed like this for a few more minutes, until Finland cut the silence. "Su-san?" he managed to mumble, tensed. Sweden immediately turned to him, lowering his head a bit.

"Y's?"

"D-Denmark-san t-t-told me a-about of s-some programme," Finland paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself before he continued, "Wife Swap, or something like that." He paused for a few more moments.

"Y's. H' t'ld me." As Finland couldn't utter a word, he asked, "Wh't 'bout 't?"

Finland seemed a bit troubled, "y-you don't really think we should apply this… do you?" his face were pleading; Sweden noticed, and blushed.

"Mm…" he mumbled, clearing his throat, "'ct'ally…" he cleared his throat once more, "'t s'unds l'ke a n'ce 'dea…"

"Haha!" Denmark exclaimed, rocking his chair dangerously, "Told ye' it's a good idea, Finny!"

Finland blushed; he just couldn't believe his ears. He looked at Sweden questioningly, increasing the latter's blush. Sweden emitted a silent unconfident gasp, before he gathered himself, put his two palms on Finland's shoulders and bent a little. "Y've 'lways l'v'd trav'llin'…" he mumbled to his ear.

He nodded, taking himself a few safety seconds for any possible regret before he said, "Alright. I agree to do it."

"Told ye'!"


	2. Prologue: Egypt's POV

**Wife Swap**

**PROLOGUE - EGYPT'S POV**

A sweet scent of cherry mixed by smoke was carried to his face, when he opened the door. The room was darkened a little, by rich, green curtains with complicated golden embroidery. The smoked air inside, was now mixed with the heavy aroma of a coffee that was slowly cooked in a finjan.

Turkey and Israel were standing in the middle of the room, speaking in whispering between themselves, as they are hiding a secret, and laughing. Obviously, they immediately noticed him, when he entered. Israel smiled at him from ear to ear, while Turkey approached and hugged him. "_Marhaba, marhaba_!"

Egypt raised an eyebrow. Turkey noticed it and just laughed, petting his shoulder in affection.

"What?" Egypt asked, smiles a little in nervous. These two have always had this kind of a strange behaviour – there was nothing new about this, but these times could freak him out.

"Ahh," Turkey led out a laugh again, "nothing, nothing."

"What is it?" he insisted.

"Okay, alright," Turkey waved his hand, "we registered Syria and Lebanon for some kind of an international programme, of couples-swap or whatever, just for fun. Apparently," he laughed for a minute or so, trying to gather himself. He took a deep breathe and continued, "apparently, they were accepted, and Syria actually agreed to go." He paused for giggling a little. "But then, he found out that Lebanon is required to be away for two weeks and got all freaked."

Egypt smiled a little, "I can imagine _that_, but it is not that funny."

"No, no. You can't even imagined what happened," Israel interrupted, "he already signed on that contract, and only then found this out. You should have seen him. Gee, my stomach aches…"

"The point is," Turkey managed to keep himself cool until he broke up and started giggling again, "he decided he won't do it. But someone _must_ do it, or else someone will have to pay for it."

These two might have been odd in gentle terms, but now they just crossed any line of some good taste. Shocked, he mumbled, "I can't understand, what you are so amused about. You seem to be in serious troubles. What would you do?"

"We are going to take Lebanon by force," Israel said in serious face. Egypt gulped and was about to speak, when his cousin cut him. "I was kidding," Israel smiled. "Turkey will do this instead."

Egypt felt as his lungs become empty at once. Then he measured the information just given him, and laughed. "With you? Wow, I am already sorry for whoever going to swap with you two."

"I was thinking of doing this with you, actually," Turkey said with a shrug.

"We aren't married."

"They wouldn't really care, as long as we are a couple."

"It would make more sense, if it will be Israel and I…"

"You are cousins. I'm not sure, it's gonna wor…" there were a few moments of silence, before Turkey tossed his head. "Maybe. Yes. If considering the fact that your mothers sl…"

Israel cut his speech, "I can't, if I want a home to return to."

Egypt took himself a few minutes, to think about this. There wasn't much need for convince – he knew that, they knew that – but he enjoyed their doubt, that was still there. "You said, it is going to be two weeks, when I am off?"

Turkey nodded.

"We will be in contact at this time?"

"No, the rules do not allow any sort of contact between the swapped spouse to their family."

He paused for a few more minutes. "How you can tell, that I will agree to take a part of it, I will be the one who swaps?"

"I have sources." Turkey pinched Israel's bottom.

_Too tempting_, he thought, yet took himself some more time. _Too tempting_. "Well, I wouldn't mind some time away from Palestine…"

Turkey smiled, "then you agree?"

"I would have to think about this for some more while." He lied; everyone could tell he was lying by now, but, it couldn't hurt to try make them think that Turkey didn't bought him, for the moment he let him realise he won't have _that_ headache for two weeks. "How much I have, to give you my decision?"

Turkey checked Israel's wristwatch. "The flight is going to be tomorrow's morning."

"What will you do, if I wasn't ready to do it?"

"Then we _would_ have take Lebanon by force."

"…I will do it."

_-Fin-_

_Finjan –_ a small metal coffee pot.

_Marhaba_ – hello (Arabic)

**A/N:** it was meant to be a much longer (and better-written) prologue for Egypt's POV, but I had only half a day to write this, otherwise, I wouldn't have any chance to write or publish anything, before the next weekend, and I didn't wanted to keep this up. Expect for some changes.

I know, I know, I failed. But I promise ye', the next chapter will be much more satisfying (I hope). Hope you liked this, anyway.


	3. Day 1: Finland's POV

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 1 - FINLAND'S POV**

"I think I am ready," Finland mumbled as he closed his suitcase.

"Ye' s're ye' h'ven't f'rgot 'nyth'ng?"

"Yes." Finland straightened, putting his suitcase on floor and pulling out his handler. He hung his eyes on it, before he carried his face to Sweden's. "Su-san?"

"Y's?"

"Are you sure, that's a good idea?"

For long moments, Sweden couldn't bring himself to speak. He just gazed at him, before he cleared his throat. "Ye' d'n't h've t' d' 't, 'f ye' d'n't feel l'ke 't."

"It's not like I don't want to at least give it a shot…" Finland bent his head again, "but… what if they won't like me? Or what if something terrible would happen to you or Sealand, and I won't be there?"

Sweden have gently lifted Finland's chin, so their eyes could met. He sat that hand then on his cheek, and placed his other hand on the younger's shoulder. "They'll l've ye', F'nl'nd," he mumbled, caressing his cheek with his thumb. "Ah l've ye'…" he added and bent, softly attaching his lips to Finland's.

Without any warning, Hana-Tamago stormed the room, barking enthusiastically, Sealand hurries after her. They broke the kiss; Sweden lowered his both hands, placing them on Finland's elbows. They both looked at the boy, Finland smiling in a little embarrassment while Sweden just blushed.

Sealand lifted Hana-Tamago, hugging her. "You're going now, mama?"

Finland nodded. "Do you want to escort us to the air port?" he asked after a short pause. "Uncle Denmark will be there."

"Yes!" Sealand exclaimed.

"Good," Finland smiled at him wholeheartedly, carefully severed himself from Sweden in order to pat Sealand's head.

"Ye' pack'd 'll, F'nl'nd?"

"Yes."

"'Kay. Let's g'."

**x**

As planned, Denmark was waiting for them at the airport. He greeted them with a sly smirk plastered on his face, waving to them.

"Uncle Denmark!" Sealand immediately exclaimed, running into Denmark's open arms. The Dane hugged him tight and then placed the boy on his shoulders.

"Ready to go?" asked Denmark.

"Yes."

"Say goodbye to everyone; I'd have to cover your eyes before I'll take you to the airplane." He put Sealand on floor, so the boy could farewell his 'mother' properly. Then he pulled out a small video camera and started to film them.

Sweden laid a hand on Finland's waist; Sealand hugged Finland from the other side. Finland ran his fingers through his hair. "Promise me that no matter who is going to replace me, you will be nice to. Okay, sweetie?"

"Okay, mama!" Sealand exclaimed. "I promise I'll be a good boy!"

"I am sure you will be," Finland smiled and bent to kiss his forehead. Then he turned to Sweden, who now wrapped his both hands around the Finn's waist. Finland put his own arms on his shoulders.

"Are you sure you will be okay, Su-san?" Finland asked.

Sweden nodded. "Y's. It's j'st tw' weeks."

Finland managed to smile. "I love you, Su-san."

"Ah l've y' to – –"

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Denmark called out; only now, they noticed he was filming them through all this time. Both blushing in embarrassment, they broke up constantly, looking at him in almost a shock. "C'mon!" Denmark laughed, "it'll go nice on TV!"

"Sh't 'p, D'nm'rk."

"H-hey," Finland have finally noticed they were missing something. He turned to Denmark, "where is the filming team?"

"It's me!" Denmark pouted in pretended insult.

"T-then, who is going to film in whenever I am going to?"

"You. You'll take this camera with you," Denmark tossed the camera dangerously. Finland felt as he loses the colour in his face. "I-I t-t-thought…I thought I am about to be escorted by the programme's team…"

"There were some changes of the last moment."

"A-are you kidding me?"

"Oh, no!" Denmark exclaimed, waving his hands, "it's a serious show, it was the requirement of the circumstances."

"W-what circumstances?"

"You'll see."

"I have a really bad feeling about this, Denmark."

"Nah. Don't worry," Denmark grinned, patting Finland's shoulder; he moved his hand at the moment he noticed Sweden's face. "You'll see, it'll be a huge fun. Besides, it's just two weeks."

"You promise, it's all safe, Denmark?"

"Yes, yes. Now, put this on," he handed Finland a blindfold, "you aren't supposed to know, where you're heading."

Finland looked over Sweden and Sealand, obviously unsatisfied by the way things were like. Sweden seemed as stoic as ever; Sealand waved to him in excite.

"I know I am going to regret this later…" Finland mumbled, but sent a last smile to his 'husband' and 'son', before he wore the blindfold and led Denmark to guide his way to the airplane.

"Can you at least give me a general hint, for where I am going?" Finland asked. They haven't exchanged a word for at least an hour, as they passed the check in and all the security checking. Denmark did the talkings; Finland understood only few pieces of words, that resembled Swedish, though Denmark's accent was pretty tough to follow. It wasn't until he directed him to get on the airplane, when Finland heard it clearly.

"_Alle passagerer til Tyrkiet bedes tilmelde sig på billetkontoret. Flyet afgår snart_."

"Get up, Finny, it's yours'."

"W-what?" Finland exclaimed, tearing the blindfold off despite what seemed as a pity attempt of Denmark's protest. "You're kidding me!"

"The airport is nearby Turkey's place, but you're gonna swap with Lebanon."

"N-no way!"

"Calm down, Finny…" Denmark grabbed the boy's shoulders, trying to stabilise him in his place.

"N-no! There's _no_ way I'm going to the Middle East!" Finland screamed, trying to release himself from Denmark's grip.

Denmark smirked mockingly, "what, are you afraid of the evil terrorists?"

"O-of course I am not!"

"Then why?"

"B-because!"

The dampness in Finland's eyes hinted, he is on the edge of crying. Denmark liked it. His smile widened, increasing with every sob of fear. "I never thought you're like this, Finny," he sweet talked.

"Like – what?"

"Racial."

"I-I am not!" he exclaimed in panic; "i-it's just t-t-that, I don't w-want to go _there_!" Denmark tsked; Finland was all shuddering. "W-what?"

"Nothing."

"Then what was that for?"

"It's just that," Denmark smirked teasingly, "I never thought you're like such a coward."

Finland blushed. "I am not!"

"Then why you're not ready to go on this plane?"

"Give me that damn ticket!" Finland ordered, almost tearing the paper off Denmark's hand. "See you in two weeks." Frowning, he turned his back to the Dane and stormed to pass his ticket before getting on plane.

Denmark almost fall on floor, barely controls his wild laugh.

**x**

'_I am going to regret this…_'

That was the first thought that came across his mind, when he got into his sit and put the safety belt on. It must have been a nightmare; everything was going on the worse side, it's just couldn't be real.

_Shortly_, they said. _The flight will leave SHORTLY_. That _shortly_ lasted over three and half hours. Not that he minded much, if it was just that technical crisis they had, but he wasn't even allowed to leave his sit for the toilets, or get some cold drink from one of the many cabin attendants, who were occupied by preventing the people to go to the toilets, saying they will be on air _shortly_.

After what seemed as forever, the airplane was finally on air. Most of the Turkish passengers, started to clap their hands and shout in enthusiasm. "…They are happy," explained the cabin attendant, who gave him some waters, "because we got out of the airport so _shortly_." Finland instantly grabbed the armrests.

"What was the technical crisis, they were talking about?" he forced himself a slight smile, to calm down a little.

"The pilot could not find his coffee-of-choice for the flight."

_Shortly_, Finland's fingers have dangerously cracked.[1]

**x**

'_At least the suitcase is here…_' he thought, as he pulled out his bag and marched to the greeting hall, while he passed some many optimists from earlier flights, who stood still with fake smiles plastered on their faces, expecting the bags which should have arrived ten hours ago.

A young and desperate-looking man, around his own height, was waiting for him in the greeting hall, holding a piece of paper on which the name "T. Veinemünen" was scribbled. Finland pouted for a moment or so, but smiled lightly when he reached the man, who shook his hand unwillingly.

"I was told to take you to the place," he said, in the most apathetic tone Finland ever heard in his life. "You have everything?"

"Yes."

"Come."

The man didn't offer any help; he didn't even looked behind his back every once in a while, to make sure Finland follows. He almost felt pity for him.

**x**

It was literally a quick driving: Finland suspected the driver drove way faster than legal. He didn't even bother to get out of car, when he stopped and said, "take your suitcase from the boot and go to the barrier or something like that, someone should be waiting you there. Do it quick, I don't want to stay here for too long."

Finland got out and pulled out the suitcase; the driver didn't even wait to the boot to shut, before he pulled on full speed and disappeared. For the first time, Finland actually started to fear.

The driver talked about some barrier; the only thing Finland could notice, was the great fence that defined the area. He couldn't move his legs; he could have stayed there, if he wouldn't hear someone calling out his name.

Finland jumped in his place and looked over the direction, where the voice came from. It was Turkey, waving at him to come over. So he did; Turkey stood in what seemed as a loophole in fence.

"Do you think you can pass through?"

"Y-yes."

Turkey moved a little anyway, trying to shrink himself to make more space for the Finn to pass. Once he was in, Turkey got in himself, closing the loophole carefully. Then he turned to Finland, smiling from ear to ear.

"Welcome, welcome!" he greeted; before Finland could say anything, Turkey dragged him into a hug. Unsure of how he should response this, he put a shaky hand on Turkey's shoulder. He released after a few moments, taking Finland's suitcase. "Have you been waiting for a long?"

"N-no," Finland said, "I just arrived."

"Good. How was your flight?"

Finland measured his options; it was a Turkish company and he was with the right person to complain to, but he preferred not to take risk of insulting him by any chance.

"Fine," he replied.

"Excellent!"

They reached a built road. Terrible screams arose from a nearby house, located next to what seemed as a small lake that crossed the neighbourhood, that was surrounded by massive fence.

Finland jumped in his place. "W-w-what's that?"

"Nothing," he replied nonchalant, shrugs. "Oh! Here we are."

He opened the door. The house was pretty large – each room was a large space, when the kitchen, dinning room and guestroom were like small houses for their own. The guestroom, he noticed, was full by coloured carpets, pouffes and small couches; there was quite a large coffee table in its centre.

"The 'rules' Egypt left you, are here," Turkey said, pointing at the dining table.

"I-I thought I am about to swap with Lebanon…"

Turkey laughed anxiously, "you were. But, you know how Syria is like: doesn't let his bitch move a millimetre away from him. So Egypt decided to do it instead; claimed he needs some quiet from his sister, or something like that." He shrugged.

Finland couldn't help but sigh in relief: Turkey was known as the best host, so perhaps this whole thing cannot be too bad. He sat next to the dinning table.

"According to the rules," he continued, "I should have let you some time alone in order to read the house rules and look around. I was about to take Cyprus from his caretaker, anyway, so I will take him to the playground or something and we will be back around five."

"Okay."

"Don't you want anything to drink or eat?"

"N-no."

"Okay. I am going now. Feel free to do whatever you wish; don't be shy. It's your home now."

"Alright."

As Turkey turned his back and headed to the door, Finland opened the notebook. His eyes blurred.

"_Tämä on minulle täyttä hepreaa_…"

"Excuse me?"

"It's full of Hebrew."

"Oh…" Turkey laughed anxiously, looking forward Finland's shoulder, to have a better view. "Well, Egypt's handwrite is terrible, so he asked Israel to write instead."

Finland seemed absolutely lost. Noticing that, Turkey said, "look, technically, there are only two rules to follow: you better not be the one to start a war, and don't try to move Yemen away from his tree between 2 to 4." He put his palm on the Finn's shoulder and patted it. "Welcome the Middle East. Try to stay sane."

It wasn't cheering much, even if Turkey's means were good. He managed to smile a little and nod.

Turkey checked the watch, "I'm already late. I will be back _shortly_. Bye."

Being left alone in a foreign house, was not such a great feeling. It felt strange: Turkey told him, he can do whatever he wishes, but it felt wrong. Fortunately, it was only half an hour, before Turkey came back, accompanied by a child who seemed on the same age as Sealand. Cyprus, probably. Finland smiled at him wholeheartedly.

"This is Finland," Turkey said, bending on his knees next to the boy. "Remember I told you he is about to live with us, for the next two weeks?"

Cyprus nodded. Without thinking twice, he hopped over Finland and hugged him. Blushing, he smiled, and returned a hug. "Nice to meet you, Finland," the boy said.

"Nice to meet you too, Cyprus."

"I'm going to make us some drinks," Turkey said. Finland hummed and returned to sit, while Cyprus hurried to join him. He smiled to himself, while he eyed that child. It was a relief.

Then, the floor was moving.

It wasn't _literally_ moving – just one of the tiles – but it was enough to jump him.

"W… w… wh… what's that? Who is it?"

After a moment or so, something was lifting the tile and removed it aside. Finland stared in horror, when a young girl – around the age of 13 – raised herself up, cursing under her breathe. She was dressed by a long, khaki tunic and greyish sirwal, her feet bare and her head and face are framed by white and red kaffiya[2]; she was all caught by dust. She pulled the shovel she was using by asides her, to return the tile to its place.

"Eh…" Finland was speechless. That girl just glared at him dangerously. He wanted to call Turkey for help, but it felt like the words were swallowed in his throat. "Ehh…"

"You are not Turkey," the girl said. _Oh Lord…_ Finland felt as his legs are shaking. _Oh Lord._

"W… who are you? And… I'm Finland. I, eh, me and Egypt swapped for some, eh, project…"

"What's your problem?"

"Eh… you… you… don't live here, right?"

"Here, in this house? Or generally in this area?"

"In… this house?" Finland could have barely kept himself standing. "What have you been doing there, under the floor?"

"Ah, no, no. I'm living nearby. I was meant to reach Syria, but apparently, I've got the wrong exit."

"Palestine!" Turkey exclaimed; he got out of the kitchen, a small glass of coffee in his hand; Cyprus got into the room a few moments after, his lips attached to a mug. "How have you reached here, _ya majnúna_? How many times do I have to tell you, to not direct these tunnels of you to my house?"

"Why are you so jumpy?" Palestine smirked. "I missed the exit, I was meant to reach Syria's place. Shit happens."

"Aren't you, eh, confined for the next two centuries?"

She snorted and grinned. "That fuck can keep wishing."

Turkey sighed, rolling his eyes. "Then you wonder why your brother is working on subterranean barriers around his house."

"Eh. Whatever." She shrugged. "I still couldn't figure out what _he_," she lifted her chin, pointing it to Finland, "is doing here."

"Your brother and Finland decided to swap for two weeks, to see what happens. You know – Egypt went to live with Sweden, where it's cold even at summer, and Finny is joining to our _chamúla_."

Finland couldn't expect it, when Palestine hugged him all in sudden and kissed each of his cheeks. He couldn't help but yell in surprise, and almost fall on floor; lucky for him, that Palestine held him so tight.

"I'm going to Syria now," Palestine released him, picked her shovel and came throughout the door – just like that.

A minute barely passed, before she stormed back into the house in horrifying screams; Finland screamed by the shock. As she was hunt by a ghost, Palestine kicked the tile she was coming out through and jumped in.

A second after the door shut open in a kick; Finland almost fainted, when a figure in combat dress filled the entrance. Finland could recognise it: it was Israel, he saw him a few times before. He wore his regular green uniforms, but now in a bullet-proof vest, helmet and – to Finland's horror – his shortened M16 rifle, pointed to their direction.

"Everyone on floor, put your hands on your heads!" he screamed.

Without thinking twice, Finland followed his orders; thoughts of the sweet and warm home, loved son and husband he left behind, crossed his mind; he saw his whole life passing by.

"Where is she?"

"Oh. How unexpected," Turkey tsked. "Here, Israel. Coffee, poof, relax. Finland – get up, don't worry. It happens every Tuesday and Thursday." He shrugged, then handed Israel the glass of coffee he was holding; Israel turned his rifle to his back and took it. Carefully, barely catches his breathe, Finland dared to get up.

"Better now?" Turkey asked.

Israel wrapped his free around Turkey's waist, "hey, sexy."

"So you came off this whole thingy of humiliating me?" he bent to kiss Israel's cheek. "Good, it's all right now. Everything is nice and calm with a glass of coffee. You want one, too, Finland?"

"Oh!" Israel noticed him and smiled from ear to ear; before Finland could protest, he hugged him so tight, it almost hurt.

For some reason, Finland thought Israel was a big guy; only now, when even in that helmet on his head, Israel's height had barely reached his own chin. In fact, he seemed no older than seventeen.

Finland was too shocked to speak or react. Everything was happening too fast, and was too much to bear. Turkey had to shake his shoulder a little, when he gave him a glass. Meanwhile, Israel started to cover the entrance that Palestine created on floor with cement, mumbling something to himself.

Once again, the door was open by sudden – Finland was too close to loose his breathe – and an old man entered. He wore a long, dress-like white tunic and sand sirwal, his head wrapped by black and white kaffiya. He stood in the middle of the room, speaking to himself aloud.

Seconds later, another man entered the house; he seemed just a bit younger than Turkey, his hair black and short, his face are half-hidden by gigantic glasses, wore by a purple polo shirt, its margins inserted to his jeans, as if his entire being doesn't seemed geek enough. "Father…!" he exclaimed, grabbing the old man's hand, "your house is in the opposite direction!"

"Ah! Old man Yemen!" Turkey grinned. "Sit down, sit down, I've got some coffee for you. Oman, dude, relax."

Oman covered his eyes, when the old man – his father – started trilling what was mostly likely a song, or even a pray, in Arabic. Turkey got into the kitchen, while Cyprus hugged Yemen's waists and exclaimed, "grandpa!"

"_Ahlan, ahlan!_" Yemen smiled, hugging the boy in return.

"Finished!" Israel called out, got up and turned to them. Cyprus broke the embrace and ran over him, wrapping his arms around Israel's neck so the latter could lift him.

Oman turned to him. "Finland?" he asked. Finland managed to nod, then looked at him in thankful eyes, when he just offered his hand. Finland shook it. "Nice to meet you. I am Oman," he said, "and this… is my father," he turned his eyes to Yemen, who returned to trill. "He is a little… eh…" he hesitated a little, before he encircled his index finger on his temple.

"Who are you speaking to, _ya ibni_? Ah!" he noticed Finland, "we've got visitors! Why didn't you tell me a word, I would've brought some khat[3] for him." He pulled Finland into a hug, kissing his cheek.

Yemen pulled back and started telling a story to the open space; Oman hurried to convince him, they should get back home.

He heard screams from outside.

"Syria, enough, I don't wanna go! I wanna stay at home!"

"C'mon, what's your problem? You better be polite."

"But I don't want t ––!"

Smiling from ear to ear, a man dressed in sandy long tunic and jeans entered the house, dragging a shorter guy who was wearing a fern green tunic and brown sirwa, his face framed by black kaffiya. "_Ahlan, ya Turk_!" the man waved at him; Turkey, who has earlier returned with a coffee tray, waved back. "Who's this pretty-face?"

"Finland," Turkey responded. Finland nodded and retreated, before any of them would get close enough to hug him. Israel turned to the shorter man – shorter than him! – and grabbed his waists. "Hey, sweetie."

"Get off me!" he screamed and pushed Israel, who grinned like a maniac, off.

"What, you're still hurt for the last night with Syria?"

"S-shut the fuck off!"

Turkey stood next to him, patting his ass lightly. "Don't be so heavy, Lebanon, we all know, there's nothing to hide!" the younger jumped aside, just to have his behind patted by Israel. "Yeah, don't be so heavy!"

Syria narrowed his eyes, "leave him along –"

"Of course, it's your job, huh?" Turkey said, both him and Israel giggling.

Finland blinked. Was he supposed to swap with _this_ man?

"Oh! It's you again!" Yemen said. "When will you marry with him, it's been years I only hear excuses, it's ain't proper! I'll go make some henna[4] and you arrange the food, Oman can fix you some nice place to get marry at."

"I'm a man, Yemen!" Lebanon exclaimed, "_man_!"

"You aren't wan."

"Father, he said he is a man. It's a galabiya[5], the cloth he wears, not a dress."

"Not when Lebanon is wearing it," Israel said, he and Turkey are laughing again.

"You better shut!" Syria yelled.

"A married couple or not?" Turkey noted, now making everyone laugh.

A man dressed in a royal-like uniform, got into the house. He looked around with his chin upright, before he announced, "alright, I'm here. You can now start whatever you were up to."

Cyprus waved over him. "Hi, uncle."

"Wait, wait," Turkey said, utilising his height to stand in the centre of crowd, to have everyone's attention. "Saudia," he turned to the man who just entered, "where Kuwait and the Emirates are?"

"At Kiku's."

"Again?"

Saudi Arabia nodded.

"Hey," Syria interrupted, "don't we miss…"

"Shh," Turkey cut him, "they will arrive within…"

He was cut, as someone from outside screamed, "_Alláhu ákbar_!"

"Who said that?" Israel exclaimed, cocks his rifle.

"Iraq," Turkey said, "it's his weekly round, remember? Tuesday. Now, put your rifle down." Israel lowered the weapon and locked it.

"Okay," now Turkey turned to everyone, "before _they_ will arrive, let's introduce yourself – Finland – …"

"Stocktaking, everyone!" Yemen called out. "Whoever isn't here, say, 'me'!"

"Eh, father…" Oman mumbled, grabbing Yemen's arm, "I will do that. You just rest a little, okay?"

Yemen mumbled something, but sat down.

The terrifying sound of exploding, was carried from outside; unable to feel his legs, Finland collapsed unto a nearby couch, shivering like a mad. _This_ was too much for him, he realised, before a black veil blinded his eyes, as he fainted.

_-Fin-_

A special thank to **Snappygirl**, for helping me with Danish!

_Alle passagerer til Tyrkiet bedes tilmelde sig på billetkontoret. Flyet afgår snart – _all passengers to Turkey, please sign up at the ticket office. The airplane is about to leave soon. (Danish)

_Tämä on minulle täyttä hepreaa_… – It's full of Hebrew (the equivalent Finnish version, for, "it's Greek to me").

_Ya majnúna_ – you crazy one (Arabic)

_Chamúla_ – family (Arabic)

Now, there is something you must know about the typical Middle Eastern family, to understand the next to come: while in the Western World, 'family' refers to parents and children, in the Middle East, it also includes grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, nephews, nieces, and technically whoever has _any_ blood connection, or related to anyone who has any blood connection to the family (well, I am obviously exaggerating this, but Middle Eastern family gatherings can be a real horrific experience).

_Ahlan, ahlan_! – hello, hello! (Arabic)

_Ya ibni_ – my son (Arabic)

_Alláhu ákbar_ – Allah is great (a common praying-phrase in Arabic, that unfortunately has bad connotations with terror)

[1] _Turkish Airlines_ has the bad reputation of one of the worse airline companies, for its delays, cargo's losses and alike.

[2] Sirwal are some kind of Middle Eastern pants; kaffiya is a Middle Eastern scarf, that is usually wrapped around the face.

[3] Khat is some sort of a herb, that is chewed mostly by Yemenites.

Another thing about Yemen… one of the things, that inspired me creating his OC!, is this following story: at middle school, one of my friends was a Yemenite girl, whom I visited frequent. Her grandmother lived with her family, and often, she could entre the room – all by sudden – and sing to herself in Arabic.

[4] Henna is a flowering plant, that is used to dye the skin, hair, fingernails and, well, anything almost. It is also used for a pre-wedding ceremony (that is named after that plant) in the Middle East, North Africa and some parts of Asia and the Horn of Africa, where the groom and bride are dyeing their hands by henna for good luck.

[5] Galabiya is a robe-like Middle Eastern cloth, wore by both genders. I referred to it as 'tunic' at first, since that is the most similar term to that cloth in Western terms, although the galabiya is usually in ankle-length.


	4. Day 1: Egypt's POV

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 1 - EGYPT'S POV**

"Looking for treasures or something?"

Egypt looked up at his apparently neighbour-to-sit, a white-haired and red-eyed man, who grinned at him from ear to ear. Egypt got up and moved to his sit, so this man could get his place.

"You were looking for something?" he insisted.

"Explosive charge," Egypt responded nonchalant. He meant that, but the white-haired man just raised an eyebrow in skepticism and sighed, relaxing on his chair. He doesn't seemed like someone interesting to speak to during the flight, anyway; Egypt pulled on a blindfold and wrapped himself with some blanket he found under his sit.

**x**

A cabin attendant woke him up by shaking his shoulder gently. Egypt almost jumped on his sit, while he ripped the blindfold, just to discover a smiling man greeting him for waking up.

Egypt looked behind the man's shoulder; his neighbour-to-sit seemed to leave earlier, while the other passengers got up calmly and went out.

"W-what happened?" he asked, almost shocked by this cabin attendant's calmness.

"We just landed."

"No kidding."

Egypt got up slowly, stretching himself a little before he got up himself. He noticed the cabin attendant approached another sleepy passenger. "You better put on a jacket," the cabin attendant called after him, "it is a little cold outside."

Egypt waved at him and went out through the airplane's sleeve. He was rather in shock, for the calm flight and the effectiveness of, well, anything. _Even the cargo arrives on time,_ he thought, whistling in impression.

A blond-haired man, dressed in a light coat, was waiting for him in the greeting-hall, holding a sign with his name written on, in both Latin and Arabic letters. Being the only tan-skinned among the crowd of passengers, the man waved at him at the moment he noticed him.

"Let me help you with your bag, sir," he said and took the suitcase, before he was asked. Egypt followed him to the car.

It was parked in an underground level, and yet, for the moment they got outside the lift, Egypt felt as he was entering a fridge. He hugged his arms, brushing against them in order to warm himself a little. His breathe became heavier, and his nose started dripping. The man, who was sent to take him, didn't notice it until they reached the car, where two team members – the camera-guy and the boom-man – were waiting.

"It is not _that_ cold…" the blond man mumbled.

Egypt couldn't respond; he just hurried to open his suitcase before that guy would put it in the baggage. He never appreciated, that Israel had that tendency to open his suitcases after they were locked, just to put more warm clothes in them, until now. He pulled on the first sweater he saw and put it on while the blond man closed his pack and put in the baggage. Egypt was about to sit next to him, in front, when the boom-man stopped him and pointed at the backwards' sit. He got in there, with the camera-guy sitting on his side, starting to film.

"Where are we going to?" Egypt asked.

"You will see."

_It is about time,_ he thought, _to stop asking strangers for their direction._

**x**

Half an hour later, they reached quite a large, yet lovable, house, that was located in what seemed as the middle of a small garden that was covered by a thin layer of snow. The blond man got out of the car, in order to take Egypt's suitcase, while the two team-members got out themselves after telling him to wait for their sign.

As if he thought he was entering a fridge earlier, then now – dressed in a thick sweater – he felt as he entered a fridge after taking a frozen bath. The cold was unbelievable almost: he never realised, the term for freezing to one's bones, have actually reflected reality; it felt as every single bone of him, was squeezed by the cold, and as his bones were bare to the open air.

"It's quite nice outside," noted the boom-man.

_Nice_, he said.

"_Farväl_," the blond man said and waved, before he got into the car and drove away, not before placing Egypt's bag next to the front door. Eager for warmth, Egypt almost ran into it, not even looking on the small sign of the family's name, that was glued to it.

Indoors was indeed warm, thanks to the fireplace that was placed in what probably was the living room. It was rather a small space with a small coffee-table in its middle and a few couches around it, a television and a few books' shelves. He cared to clean his shoes on the small carpet, that was places for that very reason right to the front door, but didn't pulled off his sweater like the filming team did.

"Check the house," said the boom-man, a chubby blond guy who's his face were covered by freckles, "we want a few shots of it."

Egypt just looked at him for a few moments, before he did so. He started by the kitchen – also rather a small room, where the dinning-table was next to its entrance. He didn't have much of patience to actually explore the house, so he only bothered for quick glances when he found the bathroom and what seemed as a playing-room, to the dissatisfaction of his accompaniers.

"Why don't you go upstairs?" asked the camera-guy.

"Later?"

He sat on one of the couches and sighed. For the first time in ages, he actually managed to have some blessed moments of a complete silence. He almost forgot how it felt like: the serenity, the loss of vague background voices. Heaven.

He took himself a few more minutes like this, before he took the 'house-rules' note into his hands and opened it, to the click sound of a camera turning on, and read.

"_Dear Swapped wife!_

_We are so happy, to welcome you, to Oxenstierna family!"_

_Oh, no,_ he immediately thought, when he read these simple words, written black-on-white, again and again in disbelief. _They sent Finland to the Middle East. Oh, no_.

Egypt tried not to think about it, when he carefully read the rules – twice each, or even three times – to make sure, he got Finland's means.

_He seemed as a stressful guy, that Finland,_ Egypt has to agree, when he delved more into the part, where Finland noted the orders for how to treat Sealand's hair in the most effective way.

They were quite simple, other than that: Sealand has to go to school at 08.00; Sweden picks him back home around 13.00, and they eat lunch at 13.30; they are dedicating their afternoons for some family-time, eat dinner at 20.00 and prepare Sealand for sleeping at 20.30.

"What hour is it?" he asked the boom-man, who stared blankly on the air. He hesitated at first, as he wasn't sure Egypt was talking to him, before he checked his wristwatch. "15.40." Egypt tuned his own watch. "Aren't they supposed to be at home by now?"

"On 17.00. According to the rules, the families have to give the swapped spouse some time alone, to _explore_ the house," the camera-guy said.

"Good," Egypt said, crossed his arms on his chest, put his legs on the coffee-table and closed his eyes, _chilling_.

It felt divine.

**x**

On 17.00, the front door was open and Sweden and Sealand got inside. For the moment he heard them, Egypt hurried to put his legs off the coffee-table and to stand up, ready to greet them.

"Hi," Egypt smiled. Stoic as always, Sweden just looked at him for a few seconds, before he nodded and offered his hand. He didn't bend for a kiss, so Egypt just took his hand and shook it. He also noticed Sealand, half-hidden behind Sweden, smiling at him shyly. Egypt's smile widened at once as he kneed. "Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Egypt."

Sealand smiled back, moving asides. "I'm the great Sealand!"

"Yes."

"Are you from far?" asked Sealand.

"Not too far. I'm from a place called the Middle East, perhaps you heard about it before?"

"Yeah!" Sealand jumped in his place, "jerk England told me everything about it!"

"Well, that's nice. I'm here to learn more about your place." Egypt liked that kid: unlike his brother, he was pretty friendly, and _harmless_. He knew, he would handle that kid just fine.

"Cool!"

Sweden looked at him, as he is trying to say something, but hesitating. Egypt looked at him in return. "D' ye' w'nt anyth'n' t' dr'nk?"

"Yes, please."

Without saying a word, Sweden headed to the kitchen, blushing. Sealand pulled his shirt a bit, "you really live in a desert?"

"Sort of."

"So you have your own camel?"

"N-no…"

"Do you have any brothers and sisters?"

"I have one sister, Palestine."

"I also have a brother, jerk England."

"Seal'nd," Sweden said, as he returned with a tray of glasses of tea and some home-made cookies. "Don't 'sk h'm s' m'ny quest'ns, he's pr'bably t'red."

Sealand nodded with slight disappointing and sat on a couch. Egypt also took a sit on one, when Sweden put the tray on table and put a glass in front of each of them. Both he and Sealand thanked him and he just nodded, took a glass for himself and sunk unto the couch, next to Sealand.

"H'w w's ye'r fl'ght?" Sweden asked after some embarrassing moments of silence.

"Good."

Sweden humphed something in return, that Egypt couldn't understand.

They remained silent until they finished their drinks and cookies, and also for the moments Sweden went to clean the dishes and returned. Egypt noticed a frown on Sealand's face, but preferred to not ask. He was too astonished by the silence: even when it was just Israel and himself, there wasn't such silence. It was so peaceful, so bliss. It felt just as wars or bads, never reached this corner of the world. He could have gotten used to it.

Yet, there was something missing. It wasn't but after an hour or so, when he dared asking, "don't you have any neighbours here?"

At first, Sweden was looking at him questioningly. Then he cleared his throat, and said, "Y's, w' d'. Why?"

"Just wondering," Egypt shrugged.

Eager to prevent the silence, Sealand said, "we have Norway, who is living right next to us, uncle Denmark, who isn't really my uncle but he doesn't mind me to call him so and Iceland, who is Norway's younger brother. Do you know them?"

"I think I saw them a few times, in World Conferences."

"Cool!" Sealand smiled.

"They are not coming often, I suppose?"

"Th'y d' c'me quit' 'ften, b't Ah 'sked them t' n't c'me t'day, Ah 'ssumed ye'll b' t'red an' didn't w'nted t' b'ther ye'."

Egypt felt the colour leaving his face, when he tried to imagine the greeting that is most likely expected to Finland at these very moments.

_Poor guy_…

"Ah c'n c'll th'm, 'f ye' w'nt…"

Egypt tossed his head, "no, no need."

There were a few more minutes of silence, before Sweden stood up. "Ah'm g'nn' m'ke dinn'r."

"Do you want some help?"

"N', th'nk ye'."

He went to the kitchen; now Egypt noticed, Sealand was frowning in externalisation, crossing his arms as to make sure everyone will notice, there was something to bother him. Egypt was quite impressed; if it was his sister, she would have probably explode something, in order to gain some attention.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing." Sealand's frown deepened.

"Okay," Egypt forced himself to not smile. He knew this trick too well, and was always the best to handle it; he played along and crossed his own arms.

As expected, it didn't take Sealand too long, to break. "Don't you ask, why I'm angry?" he asked.

"You said it's nothing."

"I'm angry because papa told me to not ask you questions."

"He didn't day, you can't just speak to me, right?" he looked at Sealand and raised an eyebrow. Sealand hung his eyes over him for a few seconds and nodded, smiling from hear to ear – just on time for dinner.

Egypt was rather shocked, to discover the 'dinner' Sweden was talking about, barely included a bowl with what seemed as salad, a bowl with some sausages and some pancakes filled by something, Egypt couldn't recognise, on a small plate.[1] He said nothing, despite the surprise, and tried to fix his plate the minimum.

**x**

After dinner, Sweden took Sealand to bath while Egypt was left to make the dishes. When thinking about this, he was quite amused by that, this family seemed so… perfect: it was just Sealand and his 'parents', living only by their own in a perfect world of peace and serenity. His thoughts were interrupted, when he suddenly saw Sealand next to his side – already dressed in his pyjama – pulling his shirt gently and looking at him in begging eyes.

"Can you tell me a bedtime story?" he asked. Egypt noticed Sweden, standing to the threshold of the room, looking at him as he was asking his pardon for Sealand's behaviour. The kid continued, "mummy's usually tell me one."

"Okay," Egypt paused for a second, before he asked, "would you mind, if I will tell you an original story?"

"Yeah!" Sealand exclaimed in excite, jumping on his place. "Come!" he grabbed Egypt's still wet hand, and started leading him to his room.

It was quite a large place, where the bed took the main part of. The walls were painted by a soft pattern of UFOs and there were some toys scattered all over the floor. Sealand got into the bed and covered himself. "Sit next to me."

Egypt did so. It's been years, since the last time he has done such a thing. Last time it happened – he remembered it clearly – was when his sister was a toddler. She also asked him to sit next to her, and he petted her soft curls. He almost missed these times, but he was soon to put this memory aside.

"Our story begins many years ago," he started, "in a faraway kingdom, that ruled the entire known world of these days. The kingdom was ruled by a king, who was very strong and mighty, but also lonely." He paused, to see the kid's reacts. To tell by the spark in his eyes, he seemed to like this theme.

Egypt continued, "the king was lonely, because he discovered his loved wife was betraying him −−" in a matter of seconds, he memories he is telling this story to a kid who was no older than ten, and quickly corrected himself, "−−by saying bad things about him, behind his back. The king ordered to ki… to _expel_ her from the palace and find him a new wife.

"The loyal clerks, who didn't want their king to be sad and lonely, started looking for young girls, who would marry the king. Once they found a girl, they organised the king a wonderful wedding; however, on the first morning after the wedding's night, the king expelled the girl he got married with, and ordered his clerks to find him a new wife. Once again, the clerks found a girl and organised a wedding, but at morning, she was expelled. The same happened every single day, ever since."

"He got married every day, to a new girl?" Sealand asked in disbelief.

"Yes. He didn't want to be lonely, but he was so angry at his first wife for her deeds, he wanted to punish all girls by marrying them and expelling them on the morning after. Obviously," Egypt said, "it became a routine; no matter how fine the girl he got married with was, she was meant to be expelled. Soon enough, there were only two girls left in town – the king's right-hand-man's daughters.

"The royal clerk didn't want his elder daughter to marry the king, as he knew he will expel her no matter what, but the girl, who loved the king, insisted.

"On their wedding's night, the new bride offered the king a bedtime story. The king agreed, knowing it's going to be her first and last time with him, anyway.

"And so, the witty lass started to tell him a story, but it didn't end at dawn. Eager to hear its end, the king promised his new bride, he won't expel her, if she promises she will continue the story on the next night. So she does, and when she finished the story, she started a new one before the dawn arrives.

"One thousand and one nights passed like that, until the king – who fall in love with his bride, and also became the father of their three children – decided to not expel her, and let her be his queen forever.

"That's how our story begins." Egypt smiled a little, as he petted Sealand's head. "Good night."

"B-but you haven't finished!" the kid protested.

"Yes. I will continue next evening," he winked. He was about to get up and leave, before he realised something. "Hey… England's brother?"

"Yes?"

"I am not sure, if your father – due to his past – would be a fond of me telling you such stories. I would like you, to not tell anyone about the stories I tell, okay? It will be our little secret."

"Sure!" Sealand exclaimed.

"Good night, England's brother."

"Good night, Egypt."

_-Fin-_

_Farväl_ – goodbye (Swedish)

[1] I was looking in candles for the way the typical Swedish dinner is like; I found nothing, so I led out some imagination.


	5. Day 2: Finland's POV

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 2 - FINLAND'S POV**

"Su-san…" Finland murmured beneath the covers. He couldn't remember, what happened last night; his head still aches a little and that dream he just had, didn't do much better either.

He attached his face to the body next to him. "I had such a terrible dream…" he mumbled, wrapping his both hands around it. "I dreamt that I –" he opened his eyes. It took him a moment to realise, he was hugging a large-sized pillow, and another moment or so, to notice he was sleeping in unfamiliar bad. "Oh, shit," he snapped. _No, it wasn't a dream_, the unfortunate truth was flung on his face, as he got up into a sitting position, to examine this room.

He was sitting on quite a large bed, that was half-covered under tens of colourful pillows of all size and shape, decorated by brilliant embroidery and the softest fabric. The room itself was pretty simple, though: it was painted by a delicate hue of cream, crimson curtains darkening it; there was a closet next to the door – he noticed, his suitcase was placed near it – and one, simple carpet on floor.

He got up, and sleepily headed to the kitchen, where he found Cyprus sitting next to the table and eating his breakfast. Turkey sat right next to him, drinking coffee from a small glass and eating from the same plate as Cyprus.

"Good morning, Finland!" he greeted, at the moment he noticed the blonde peeking in. "Come, join us. I didn't wake you up, since you seemed so tired. Do you want anything to drink?"

A bit confused by this flood of questions, it took Finland a few moments, before he realised he was spoken to, to memorise whatever Turkey was telling him and nod. "Yes, please."

Turkey got up. "Coffee? Cocoa? Hot milk? Tea?"

"What Cyprus is drinking?"

"I'll make you a mug."

Finland sat next to the kid, while Turkey turned to fix him a glass. He never saw what Cyprus was eating before: it was some sort of a pastry, framed as a small cube, filled by something he couldn't recognise; some were wrapped in what seemed as hair-like noodles; whatever it was, by the way Cyprus was eating it, it must have been delicious.

"What is it?" Finland found himself asking, pointing at the plate.

"Baklava," Cyprus responded. "You can have some, _baba_ made tones of it."

"O-okay…" hesitately, Finland took one and chewed. It took him a few moments, to get used to the flavour – it was pretty sweet, perhaps too sweet for a breakfast – but he liked it. He finished it, just when Turkey delivered him a mug of coffee.

"So you tried baklava?" he grinned.

Finland nodded. "Is it what you usually eat for breakfast here?"

"This, or other sweets…"

Finland eyes were shut open. "Y-you give your child _sweets_ for breakfast?"

Turkey looked at him in confuse. "Yes."

"B-but it's not healthy!" Finland exclaimed, "it will ruin his teeth!"

"No… it will make them stronger. Or at least sweeter," he grins once again and petted Cyprus' shoulder in affection; the kid was absolutely ignorant to the conversation. "It's just sweets."

"It's probably full of sugar, too…"

"It's made by sugar, mostly."

"A-aren't you c-concerned, about Cyprus' h-health? I-I mean, it's not just the teeth, but also his blood-stress, his heart…"

Turkey shrugged, "I can live on sweets, and I didn't even get cold for the past millennium, at least."

"I-if you say so."

"Hey. Don't be upset." Turkey put a hand on his shoulder. "Tomorrow I'll give him something else. I promise. Okay?"

Finland sighed. "Okay." He took the mug, Turkey made for him, and drank slowly. It was a simple instant coffee – the kind he was used to – but the best one he ever tasted, he noticed.

"You are to take Cyprus to his caretaker," Turkey said after some while. "It's not far; he knows the road, you just have to keep an eye on him, to make sure he doesn't decide to go to Yemen or something like this instead."

"Where is it?"

"Remember the house, we've seen yesterday? The one with the fence? It's there." Finland gulped, but Turkey doesn't seem to notice. "Israel knows you're taking him, so there wouldn't be any −−"

"Israel?" Finland mumbled, his face turn completely white. He was _panting_. Turkey noticed, and hurried to say, "don't worry… Israel's the sweetest thing on earth."

_Sweetest_, he said. He failed to realise, what is so sweet about this tiny maniac, who could have shoot him without thinking twice, if Turkey wasn't there. Sweden said that little psycho even trades humans' organs![1] _He must've lost his mind_, Finland thought, and gulped again. No, he definitely _doesn't_ want to get _any_ close to that blood-thirst freak.

"What," Cyprus asked in his most innocent voice, his eyes are widening in surprise, "are you _afraid_ or something?"

'Afraid' wasn't even the word to describe his feelings at that moment, but, when he heard that word…

"O-of course I don't!" he responded and grabbed Cyprus' – who now stood next to him – hand. _Courage, Finland. You didn't win Russia, just because you are a nice guy. Courage_.

"I'm to take him, and then?"

Turkey thought about this for a few moments. "Basically, do whatever you want. Chill, go somewhere… up to you. I'd probably be at Yemen's or something, if you'll need me."

"Okay." He paused, checking his wristwatch. "Enjoy you, two." He hugged each of them tight before he went out, waving at them on his way out.

"We're going now?" Cyprus pulled his sleeve.

"Y-yes. Let's go."

It was Cyprus, to drag him outside, and to lead him to the direction.

"Don't you lock your house, before you are going out?" Finland asked in surprise.

Cyprus looked at him in confuse. "Why?"

"Don't you mind, that anyone can entre your house, just like that?"

"I should?"

"Never mind," Finland sighed.

"Hey, Israel!" Cyprus called out, waving to someone behind Finland. The latter jumped on his place and turned backwards; Israel was standing with his side leaning against the entrance, chewing the stalk of an oxalis.[2] He was still wearing his field uniform, but without the bullet-proof vest or his rifle, and with a silly round-brimless hat that shaded his face. He also noticed, that guy has a _moustache_ – a thick, ridiculous moustache, that Finland wondered how come he didn't notice before.

He waved back, pulled the oxalis out of his mouth and grinned. "Good morning!"

Finland barely felt his feet. "G-good, y-y-you're h-here… a-alright, I-I'll c-come p-pick him on f-five…" he rather yelled that, but he hurried to run away to Turkey's place, as quickly as possible, before he gave Israel any chance to react. He shut the door behind him, leaned against it and breathed heavily.

Once again, he was all alone, but, for once, he could only appreciate the silence. For the moment he stopped panting, he groped his way unto the nearest pouffe and let himself sink in it for a while, before he gathered the strength to go make himself a cup of tea, and, after some hesitation, to take one of these baklavas, that was still left.

Encouraged a little, he felt as it is about time, to explore his house for the best two weeks. He couldn't tell why, but there was something in this house, that rather fascinated him; without thinking much, he quickly found himself getting down the stairs, to the basement.

He blinked.

_This guy never really throws anything, is he?_

As if he thought, the house itself was a mess, with all these pillows, carpets and coffee-tools all around, then the basement was like an over-loaded museum: the walls were hidden almost, by the many shelves which were filled by books, figurines, pictures and other things, he couldn't recall by name; every few metres, there were closets – of all sizes and shapes – which seemed as they are about to explode; old pillows, old chairs and tables, pieces of clothes – all, were just thrown there, all random.

Finland approached a nearby closet, to not make any more mess while trying to get close to farer ones. It was a simple one, with glass-made doors, that was full of what seemed as framed pictures. Finland had carefully open the closest door; he couldn't help but chuckle, to two baby pictures of Greece: one sleeping, second in his mum's hands – and one as a toddler, napping in teenage-Turkey's lap.

Another picture, that caught his eyes, was of a very beautiful woman – her skin fairly tan, a snake-like crown rounds head, her black hair entwines by many, tiny braids, golden beads to their tales, her makeup exotic – who sprawled in rather a provocative pose, some dedication scribbled on it; Egypt's mum, probably. There was a picture of teenage Egypt – bald! – and Turkey, both are wearing these dress-like tunics. And there was also a picture of twelve children – their figures were blur, so he couldn't really see their faces – the second youngest is wearing a remarkable gown, compared to the other's monotone dresses, and the fourth elder, a girl, is wearing a little crown; ancient nations, maybe. Finland was just about to go further, when he heard voices from upstairs.

Horrified, he only froze at first and listened. The sound was of some metallic rustling, followed by a loud hiss, and then there was a complete silence. Without thinking twice, he sent his hand to his back, to grab the gun he was hiding, and carefully headed up.

The hall was clear – thank God – and for a few moments, he even thought it was just his pure imagination, when he heard a hum that arose from the kitchen. He peeked in.

He couldn't help, but emit a surprise yelp, when he saw a young woman standing there, her back turned to him, and _cleaned_. She immediately turned around; she was quite tall, with a fine, bronzed skin, an abundance dark hair and green eyes, who was dressed by a simple green and white dress and sandals. Her eyes widened in surprise at first, but then her mouth curled into a huge smirk as she exclaimed "cute!" and hugged him tight, his head pressed into her huge breasts. She released after some while, to have a look at him, before she exclaimed "cute!" again and hugged him once more. His cheeks burnt, but despite the uncomforting, he petted that woman's back with a shaky hand. She released after a few minutes and moved away, clapping her hands.

"I am sorry," she said, "I just couldn't help it, you are so cute…!"

The heat in his face became deeper. He smiled a little, still uncomfortably, in return.

"You are Finland, I suppose?"

"Y-yes."

Before he realised, what was going on, he was pulled into her hug and was kissed on each cheek. "Pleasure to meet you!" she said, hugging him for the last time. "I am Morocco."

"N-nice to m-meet you…" he mumbled, still smiling in increased stress. Morocco smiled at him wholeheartedly and petted his shoulder. "You are so pale. Come, I will get you something to eat."

Unable to protest, he let her lead him to the table and he sat next to it, while she turned to the kitchen marble and started cooking.

"Y…" he started, and gulped when she turned her head to him. He took a long breathe, and continued, "you live h-here?…"

"Me? No, no." She raised an eyebrow, but then smiled and returned to the pots. "I already cleaned my house and got bored, so I decided to come and clean Turkey's."

"O-okay…" Finland blinked.

Morocco smiled at him once again. "You want some tea, sweetie?"

Finland nodded. "Y-yes, please."

She fixed him a glass with some cookies and put it in front of him. It was quite a strong and sweet tea, but he liked it. "T-thank you."

"It's fine?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. Let me know, if you want something else."

"Okay." He paused. "Thank you."

She returned cooking. He kept on looking at her back, for some while, before he returned to his glass. Gradually, he was starting to relax. She seemed so nice and loving, and, above all, she seemed _sane_.

"Here," her voice cut his thoughts, when she put a frying pan full of what seemed as red and yellow dough.

"It's czakczúka," she said, "it consists eggs, tomatoes, peppers and onion. My invent," she puffed her gigantic chest in pride; Finland moved uncomfortably on his sit. "The guys love it."

He just hung his questioning eyes on her.

"C'mon. Don't be shy."

"O-okay…" he mumbled and took the spoon she placed next to him.

Waves of hot peppers sent their metastasises throughout his body, burning every single part of him. It wasn't weakened, as he would expect it, but became worse as the flavour spread all over his stomach. However, the look of Morocco staring at him in such a motherly smile while he ate, didn't let him throw all and run for waters.

"Thank you so much," he managed to say, wiping his mouth. "It was delicious."

"I am so glad!" he smiled from ear to ear, puffing her chest in pride once more. "I will get you another plate, then."

Finland's eyes flashed open. "N-no need!" he said, but Morocco took the frying pan and filled it. "You don't have to be so shy," she smiled at him, and put the pan in front of him. "There is enough food for a battalion."

"T-thank you…" he mumbled, looking in horror at his plate, wondering if he will ever manage to complete it and stay alive to tell. Meanwhile, Morocco returned cleaning.

As if he thought, he will get used to the taste after the first time, then he was wrong: it was even worse, since he knew what was expecting him and his body rejected it before he only touched it with his spoon. He was glad, Morocco didn't notice his inner struggle; he didn't want to insult her. He took a few, deep breathes, and eventually, he managed to force himself to eat it.

"Oh! I see you like it!" Morocco exclaimed. Too scare, he will vomit if he will just try to respond, he smiled a little. "Tough guy," she laughed.

"I-it was really delicious. I'm full!" he hurried to swallow and say, before she could offer him a third plate. She, in return, raised her eyebrows and smiled. "I am glad," she said. "Feel free to come whenever you wish, I would love to cook for you."

"T-thanks," Finland smiled a little and immediately felt as his throat is getting on fire. He got up, mumbling something that even he couldn't understand and hurried to the bathroom.

In his entire life, he never drank so much water.

**x**

Morocco has already gone, when he got out of bathroom. The house was almost sparkling. He looked at the clock instead; 16.45 p.m. For once, he wished he would have been swallowed up by earth.

The doors to Israel's house – he noticed – were locked. _Surprising_. It took him a moment or so, to find the bell. There was no respond, and just when he tried again, he heard some suspicious slight sound, he couldn't recognise. He jumped backwards and looked around, but there was nothing there. He sighed in relief and turned back to the door, that Israel opened all by sudden.

"Oh, hi!" he grinned. Finland hurried to offer his hand. Israel took it after a slight hesitation and shook it; Finland hurried to take his hand back. Israel doesn't seem to mind, _luojan kittos_.

"Come in, come in."

Too scared to refuse, Finland passed the small gate and entered, Israel is closing it behind them. He could have swore, he heard a sound of some metal detector from behind, but when he turned back, he only saw Israel returning him a questioning face. "Don't be so shy," he said and walked inside, Finland is following him on shaky legs.

He was too shocked to discover, that despite the barrels, wire fence and the mine fields he expected, Israel's house was surrounded by a really lovable garden, loaded by many rare and colourful flowers, small trees and bushes; the scent was just as remarkable, as the sight. That idyllic was ruined, however, by a small, rickety garage, that was located a few metres away from the house, and was surrounded by a massive fence.

The inside, was just as shocking: it was quite a small hall, with some couches and a coffee-table in its middle, some vitrines and overloaded books' shelves were placed next to the walls; a lintel lead to the kitchen – small, yet lovable – where there was an elliptic table, that Cyprus sat next to and filled some book. He raised his head, once he noticed Finland, smiled and waved, then returned to his book.

There was something familiar in this house, but he couldn't put his finger of what exactly.

"Shall I make us something to drink?" Israel suggested. The sudden turning jumped him a little, but he gathered himself fast enough and nodded. Israel turned to boil waters and pulled out glasses, while Finland sat next to Cyprus.

"What are you doing?" he forced himself to smile.

"Logarithms," the boy smiled in excite. "Israel taught me about them today, said I'm quite a good learner."

"The best student I had in centuries," Israel noted with a warm smile, that caused Cyprus to blush. "Here."

"T-thank you," Finland mumbled, when Israel placed a cup of coffee in front of him. He also handed Cyprus some tea, put some sugar-coated orange's slices and sat next to them. Cyprus immediately took some to himself, putting them asides him.

"You're hungry?"

Finland blushed and smiled a little, "n-no, thanks. I'm fine, I… I met Morocco earlier, she already made me something."

Both Cyprus and Israel smiled to themselves, but said nothing. Finland preferred not to ask; instead, he turned to Cyprus, "what else, you're studying here?"

The kid exchanged gazes with Israel. "Anything, I suppose?" Israel smiled at him, and Cyprus returned his face to Finland, "anything, really."

"You like all these studies?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed, all sudden. "Everything is so interesting, I enjoy this so much!"

Finland raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You're serious?" Cyprus nodded in enthusiasm. Finland sighed, "I wish my son was more like you, when it comes to his studies… he's also a homeschooler, but he doesn't like the schooling part much."

"You have a son?"

"Yes, about your age. Sealand."

"England's brother?" Israel asked, raising an eyebrow behind his huge sunglasses.

"It's kind of a long story," Finland smiled in embarrassment, "you see, Sweden found him on eBay, and decided to adopt him."

"No kidding," Israel said in rather an impressed tone. Finland just smiled for a while, then swallowed and turned to Cyprus. "It's getting late," he said and got up. "T-thanks for the coffee. We'll meet again tomorrow, I guess?"

"Yes." Israel got up himself. Finland hurried to offer his hand again, before the latter would get any closer; when he pulled back, Israel turned to hug Cyprus. "Bye," the boy said afterwards and waved in one hand, the other is holding his book.

"Bye, sweetie. Good night."

"Good night!" Cyprus exclaimed, as he was rather dragged outside by Finland.

**x**

Turkey prepared Cyprus for sleeping, while Finland was left to watch some film in the living room; he felt a little dizzy after the dinner they had, but didn't felt like going to sleep yet.

It was all in Turkish, but with subtitles. Turkey told him it was a comedy, but Finland couldn't really see humour throughout the angst expression of the actors, or their dramatic tones. He thought, at first, that he was just missing the funny parts, every time he heard the recorded backwards' laugh that was heard every once in a while.

After half an hour, he considered the possibility that 'comedy' is the Turkish term for a nice melodrama film, for a nice family evening.[3]

He fell asleep at some point after the second hour.

_-Fin-_

_Baklava_ – a very popular Middle Eastern sweet.

_Baba_ – dad (Turkish)

_Czakczúka_ – a North African dish, that is pretty popular around the Middle East, that is served for breakfast or dinner.

_Luojan kiitos_ – thank God (Finnish)

[1] On August 2009, Sweden's most popular newspaper, _Aftonbladet_, published an article that claimed that during _Operation Cast Lead_ (winter 2008/9), Israeli soldiers killed Palestinian civilians, in order to trade their organs. It was proof as pure bullshit, but _Aftonbladet_'s editorials never really withdraw this claim.

[2] At least in Israel, chewing oxalis' stalks is quite popular for its fresh flavour.

[3] In most parts of the Middle East, 'Turkish movie' is slang for an over-melodramatic film, as most Turkish movies really are pretty dramatic.


	6. Day 2: Egypt's POV

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 2 - EGYPT'S POV**

He was still awake, when his alarm clock ringed at 5 a.m. He wasn't sure, whether he did managed to get _some_ sleep, or was awake throughout all this time; whatever it was – he was tired.

He did came out of bed, however, at the moment he heard the alarm; it was so solid, anyway – compared to his own bed, it felt like he was laying on ground – so there wasn't much point on staying on it.

Freezing waves have literally attacked him, at the moment he came out the many blankets he gathered and was covered by during the night. The window was closed and covered by a heavy curtain and yet he felt like it was open. He wore only one sweater above his undershirt, and wool pants, so now he pulled another sweater and jacket, putting his legs into overshoes. He also covered his face by his kaffiya, making sure its margins will be wrapped around his neck for at least twice. After some doubts, he also wore gloves.

He took one of the blankets and pulled it on floor. He paused for a moment or so, trying to estimate it by his own, but quickly gave up and pulled out a compass. He fixed the carpet correspondingly, kneed and practiced his morning prayer.

He got up, rolled the blanket and placed it asides, then headed to kitchen. He looked at the clock: 05:30. According the house's rules, Sweden and Finland were getting up on 07:30 to drink coffee together and make breakfast, then awake Sealand around 08:00, or even 08:15. He decided not to try to get back to sleep, screw the rules.

His eyes are half-shut and his sight is blurred by tiredness, his hands groped their way to boil waters and prepare himself a cup. Once it was ready, he took a deep sip.

_It's not coffee._

Whether it does, it was disgusting. He spitted it and cursed under his breathe, trudges to his room to take the coffee tools he brought with him for emergencies like this. He spilled the remainings of that crap into the sink, put waters on boil again and prepared himself a new cup.

He opened the fridge. _If I am already awake_, he thought, _why not make the breakfast?_

He shrugged and pulled out whatever he found.

**x**

"Wh't's th's smell?"

Egypt didn't bother to turn his face to Sweden. "Breakfast. I woke up early, so I decided to make it."

Sweden got closer and looked behind his shoulder. "Wh't ar' ye' m'kin'?"

"You will see."

Sweden didn't respond, but was looking behind Egypt's shoulder for a little while. "Um…" he emitted. Egypt turned his face to him; he cleared his throat. "'s… 's 't 'll j'st f'r us?"

"Oh…" Egypt tossed his head. "I'm used to cook for many people… I didn't even notice."

Sweden thought about this for a moment and blushed slightly, "perh'ps Ah c'n 'nv'te ev'ry'ne?"

_Company_! Egypt's eyes flashed open in surprise for a second, but it didn't effect his tone the slightest. "Someone _should_ finish this food eventually," Egypt replied. Sweden nodded and turned to the phone; meanwhile, Egypt returned cooking. He heard Sweden mumbling something, humphing and hanging up. "Th'y w'll c'me."

"Okay."

"Ah'm goin' t' wak' Seal'nd."

"Good."

It was his sign to pour waters in finjan and put it on boil.

_Instant coffee my ass_.

He had carefully put the coffee's powder into the boiling waters, when he heard a harsh knocking on the front door. It didn't jump him – he was used for much worse sounds – but it has surprised him a little. He heard Sealand exclaiming "uncle Denmark!" and hurrying to the door, while Sweden got back to the kitchen with a frown, mumbling something under his breathe.

Egypt lowered the fire and led the coffee cook for a while, just when Denmark came in with a huge grin plastered on his face, and with Sealand sitting on his shoulders. Egypt was just about starting to hope, the rest were just as jolly as Denmark when aren't in any World Conference, but then he saw Norway and Iceland dragging themselves unwillingly almost behind him.

"Good morning," Egypt said, "nice to meet you, all. I'm Egypt."

Automatically, almost, he hugged Iceland, who stood the nearest to him. Iceland didn't expect this the slightest, and was just freezing in his place; it was the same with Norway, whom Egypt turned to hug right after. Neither of them was able to respond this; Denmark was also pretty surprised, when he found himself hugged by Egypt for greeting, but soon enough he returned an embrace, grinning. "See, Norge?" he said after Egypt released, "at least _someone_ here likes me!"

Norway rolled his eyes.

"Oh! Wait a minute!" Denmark narrowed his eyes in thought, "wasn't that chick, Lebanon, supposed to be the one to swap with Finland?"

"Yes. Until Syria found out it will demand Lebanon to stay away from him for over an hour."

Everyone turned to sit, while Egypt poured the coffee into small glasses, holding them all in one hand – rather a dangerous position – but he was stable, and put them in the middle of table. All four Nordics and Sealand looked at the glasses in confuse, then on Egypt in horror, when they noticed he was now holding almost ten small plates literally on his arms; they seemed as they were just about to fall, yet, then again, there was such an amazing stability in his moves, neither of these plates moved a bit. They sent short gazes to these plates, when he put them down and turned to bring some other ones; neither of them could have recognised, any of the dishes, which were placed right before them. After some more rounds like this, Egypt took his own sit, taking a glass of coffee. As neither of them reacted, he remarked, "don't be so shy."

They were obviously hesitating. Egypt just couldn't understand it: if he was at home, over half of the food was most likely gone by now. And all this quietness… they are supposed to be friends! They don't have anything to talk about?

His face completely red, Sweden pointed to the glasses and mumbled, "wh't's th's?"

"Coffee."

Sweden nodded and after some hesitation, took a glass, staring at the others. They gazed back and after hesitating themselves, each of them took a glass, too, but didn't drink.

"Why is it… black?" Norway mumbled.

Egypt shrugged in return.

Norway looked at him, nodded and put it asides him.

"Why aren't you eating?" Egypt asked again in surprise. "Are you waiting for something?" without waiting for an answer, he started filling his plate, as well as Sealand's, who sat next to him.

"C'mon. Eat."

Once again, it was Sweden to ask, "wh't's th's?", pointing on a random dish.

"Mushrooms."

"An' th's?"

"Omelettes. I put some parsley in them, it makes it much tastier."

"What's this?" Denmark asked, pointing at some small bowl in front of him.

"Salad."

"It looks like someone's vomit."

Sweden shot him some murderous gazes, while Iceland and Norway looked at him in anger. Sealand ignored them all and started to eat.

Egypt, surprisingly, stayed natural. "Then don't eat it."

Denmark paled at once. There was something terrifying about Egypt's so-damn-calm voice. Without noticing, he grabbed the fork tight, ready to use it for self-defence.

Sweden cleared his throat in anxiety. Everyone looked at him. "'s 't a t'p'cal br'kf'st, wher' ye' liv'?" he asked, as in an attempt to avoid any possible reaction for Denmark's mouth.

"Yes."

"It's delicious!" Sealand noted, smiling. "Especially this," he pointed at a huge plate, full of what seemed as a gray-cream spread, decorated by some red powder, some leaves and what they could recognise as oil, but neither of them could tell for sure. "What is it?"

"That's húmmus," Egypt responded, almost in self-pride. "It's made of beans. There isn't a meal, without it. Try to eat it with this," he delivered Sealand a bowl with ball-shaped food in it. "It's faláfel, it's also made of beans." Sealand took one of these falafel balls and dipped it in hummus, without thinking twice.

"It's so tasty!" he exclaimed. "You've got to try this, too, guys!"

The filming-team entered the room in sleepy – yet, somewhat angry – faces, standing nearby them. "Hey," the boom-man pointed at Egypt, who returned him a questioning expression, "don't you think, you should've call us?"

"No."

The boom-man's jaw dropped – whether it was in shock or frustration, no one could tell. The camera-guy shot a quick gaze to his friend, then turned to Egypt himself, "you realise, we just lost what could have been the best shots we've ever had?"

"No."

"So now you know!"

"Okay."

The camera-guy's shoulders fall. "How come, you aren't bothered?"

"I am used to security cameras all over."

"Ahh…" the both men nodded in understanding, but then they realised what he was saying. The boom-man tossed his head, "w-wait… security cameras, you said?"

Egypt nodded.

"Where?"

"All over."

"All over what?"

"The neighbourhood."

"On street, malls… what?"

"Yes."

"Can you be specific?" the camera-guy interrupted.

"In absolutely anywhere, including the houses probably."

At that point, whoever been inside that very hall, looked at Egypt in a complete shock. The latter just looked at them in confuse.

"What about the right to privacy?" the boom-man exclaimed.

"The right to privacy?" Egypt looked at him, lifting his eyebrow.

The boom-man emitted a dramatic yelp. "You never heard, about the right to privacy? In what kind of a barbaric society you live?"

"Ahh," Egypt sighed in understanding. "_That_. Well, look, we do value the right to privacy –" now it was Denmark, to emit a sceptical snore, but Norway silent him with a sharp kick under the table, "– but we care more about the right to life than, well, anything else," he shrugged. "Besides, England is much worse than we are, so…[1]"

"Ngh!"

Everyone turned their faces to Sweden, who shrunk at once and fall off his chair. He was paler than usual, all sweat, and panted heavily. Egypt noticed a half-eaten falafel on his plate.

"P-papa!" Sealand screamed in horror; the filming-team hurried to start taking shots of the juicy scene. Egypt rushed to him, stood behind him and wrapped his arms around him, to do an abdominal thrust. Sweden spitted out the dough, of the half he was eating, then panted. Iceland delivered him some waters, while Egypt and Norway helped him to stabilise.

"You feel better?" Egypt asked. Sweden nodded weakly. "You're allergic to broad beans, it seems," he said.

"Sweden's allergic to _food_?" Denmark interrupted, and to Egypt's nod, started to laugh. "Unbelievable, Sverige! I thought you tougher than _that_!"

Sweden shot him a threatening gaze, but said nothing.

"Ah'm s'rry," he mumbled after a moment or so, drank some waters and cleaned his face with a napkin. "'t was quit' g'd, th'gh." He took a random bowl of salad and filled his plate nonchalant. Egypt returned to his sit.

"You okay now, papa?"

"Yeah."

Sealand smiled and continued eating.

It took the others some time to recover the shock; the filming-team took themselves some of the coffee left in finjan and filled their plates instantly, while the Nordics still hesitated. After some while, Iceland filled his own plate with the salad he managed to recognise most of its components, handing it to Norway, who hesitated for a bit more before he decided to do so himself.

Denmark pouted. "Where's the meat?"

"What meat?" Egypt asked.

"What, it's just salad and that freakish thing that Sweden's allergic to?" Denmark seemed surprised.

"Yes."

"Are you trying to force us a diet, or something?"

Egypt was almost insulted. "No…it's a _breakfast_."

"It's not even a real food."

"Danmark." Norway glanced at him dangerously.

"What?"

"Shut up."

Keep on eyeing him, to make sure he will keep this quiet, Norway eventually gained enough courage to attach the cup of that namely-coffee-thing to his lips and take a long sip. He almost spitted it right on: it felt like drinking sand, and the flavour was too strong to his taste; don't wanting to insult Egypt himself, he swallowed the liquid and put the glass asides, taking himself some juice instead.

Exactly three seconds passed, until Norway felt waves of liveliness moving throughout his body, and ten seconds until he started to move in his sit irrationally. Twenty minutes after, he was running all over the room, waving his hands while screaming something to the open air.

Iceland looked at him in horror. "N-Noregur?" he mumbled. "W-what happened…?"

"OMG, ÍSLAND!" Norway exclaimed, turning his brother's chair so he will face him, grabbing his shoulders, "OHMYGOD, ÍSLAND, I CAN HEAR THE BIRDS SINGING FROM OUTSIDE! ISN'T IT _MARVELOUS_?" he released the younger's shoulders and started hopping all over again, "OH MY IT'S SUCH A FABULOUS DAY, WE'VE GOT TO CELEBRATE!"

Denmark smirked and got up just on time, to catch Norway and put a hand around his shoulders, "with a pleasure, _min kære_."

"OHMIGOD IT'S THAT CRAZY DANE!" Norway exclaimed. "YOU'LL NEVER HAVE ME AGAIN, YOU HEARD ME?"

Denmark sled the arm, he wrapped around Norway's shoulders, to his waist, pulling him closer, "don't lie, we had such a good time together."

"YOU WERE USELESS! I SHOULD'VE RULED THE WORLD!" Norway extricated himself from Denmark's grab and started running again, "WE'LL TAKE OVER THE WORLD WITH OUR CONDOM-BOMB![2]"

Iceland pulled Egypt's sleeve. "What the hell you put in his drink?"

"Nothing."

"So how come, he is all acting like this?"

Egypt followed Norway in his sight for a few seconds, measuring the situation. He returned his face to Iceland with a shrug. "No idea. It's just coffee…"

"You call _that_ –" Iceland pointed at one of the glasses, "–coffee?"

"Yes."

"It's _black_!"

Egypt rolled his eyes. "It supposes to be black. It's black coffee."

Iceland narrowed his eyes in confusion. "How much caffeine there is in it?"

"A lot."

Iceland sighed, "well, that tells anything."

Egypt raised an eyebrow. "I thought he is drinking lots of coffee…"

"He does, but never with so much caffeine."

"Okay."

Sweden seemed completely fine by now, and even got some colour on his cheeks; Sealand finished eating, but still sat next to the table; Norway kept on running all over and screaming something about fairydust, while Denmark teased him with a wild laughter; Iceland didn't seem dare to touch his food ever again; when Egypt turned his face to the filming-team, he almost got the camera in his face.

"Say something!" the camera-guy exclaimed in excite.

"Uh?"

"Say something!"

"Something."

"The other options weren't any better," Egypt said respondingly to the boom-man's yelp.

"Can't you cooperate, at least once?" the camera-guy begged.

"I am cooperating with you from the very beginning."

They sighed.

"Okay," Iceland got up, "thanks for the inviting. It was nice to meet you, Egypt." He paused for a moment, looking over Norway worryingly.

"You are leaving?" Egypt raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Iceland nodded in confuse. "You don't expect us to spend the entire day here…"

_Actually, I do_, Egypt thought to himself, but tossed his head. "It was a pleasure to meet you, too, Iceland." The younger offered his hand just a moment before Egypt hugged him; he took it. "Thanks for the inviting, Svíþjóð," he said and waved to Sweden, who nodded for respond.

"We'll go now, too!" Denmark said, his hand wrapped under the now-sleepy Norway's armpit, a huge grin crossing his face. "It was great to meet you, Egypt!" he waved, hurried outside.

Egypt was left to watch the closed front door for long moments, still in shock.

"They were… _quiet_." He blinked his eyes in disbelief.

"Qui't?"

"Aha."

He turned to the table and started cleaning it by putting all objects on one, insanely balanced pile on his hands, bringing them into the sink and started washing them.

"Y-ye' don't hav' t'." Sweden remarked, blushing like a mad, "it's meh t'rn t'day."

"Okay," Egypt shrugged and moved aside, glancing to the clock. "It seems to be quite late." Sweden looked at him, and he shrugged, "isn't Sealand late for school or something?"

"I'm a homeschooler!" Sealand interrupted, pouting his face. Egypt looked at him and nodded in understanding. "You have private teachers," he asked, "or you are studying with your parents?"

"It's n't 'ffix'd," Sweden said.

Egypt thought about this. "Perhaps I can teach you some math today, then?"

Sealand pulled his tongue out. "I hate math."

"Really?" Egypt raised an eyebrow in confuse. "Cyprus - Turkey's son – is around your age, and likes it, actually."

"How come?"

Egypt shrugged.

"C'n ye' teach h'm m'th, th'n?" Sweden asked him quietly. Egypt, who looked at hom back, nodded, and turned to Sealand. "It's quite easy, once you understand the concept. You will see."

"Okay."

"Bring your books, so we can start."

"Yup!"

**x**

"Math is pretty easy," Egypt started, while he hung a clean Bristol board on wall. He turned back to Sealand. "Your book, please."

Sealand nodded and handed it, looking at him in much significance, as he browsed it. "I assume you already know the basis, do you?"

"Yes." Sealand puffed his chest in pride, when added, "I'm pretty good at that, too."

"Alright," Egypt handed back the book, when it's open in the relevant page, and turned his back to the board. "Okay, let's start with hyperbolic geometry; it's easy enough to start with. You are going to love it, I think." He turned his back to Sealand, to draw a triangle immersed in a hyperbolic paraboloid. "In simple words, hyperbolic geometry means that the parallel postulate of Euclidean geometry is replaced." Sealand's eyes were flashed opening in horror, as Egypt continued, "the parallel postulate in Euclidean geometry, is equivalent to the statement that, in two dimensional space, for any given line L and point P not on L, there is exactly one line through P that does not intersect L…"

Sealand was horrified. Egypt just spoke and spoke – he was brilliant at that, no doubt – but it was way too much information for him. He was still trying to concentrate at start, trying to focus on the man's exotic accent in order to stay with him, but he failed. It was way too boring; he had no patience for it and didn't want to occupy with it for too long.

When Egypt turned back to Sealand, he was no longer there.

Egypt rolled his eyes, hung the board off the wall and rolled it, to keep it secured for any futuristic use.

Sweden was reading peacefully in the library; the silence was astonishing. Having no better things to do, he decided to clean.

He started to open random doors, in order to find the tools to clean with. He found it quickly – he saw some brooms and squeegees in a pile – before a petite white fur jump on him, in a storm of fluffy hairs and barks. Egypt fell on floor in surprise, the dog now sitting on his chest and barking in victory.

He petted its head and got up carefully, pulling out whatever he will need. Meanwhile, the dog got away, keeps barking in excite.

He decided to start with the kitchen, where he was ambushed by the filming-team, who cornered him with rather psychopathic smirks on their faces.

"What?" Egypt asked.

The camera-guy's grin widened. "Time for some interview."

"I don't know, what to say."

"Tell us about your feelings," the camera-guy responded, fixing the camera on his shoulder and turning it on.

"I feel alright."

"No, no. Tell us about your _feelings_. How does it _feel_ like, to be here so far?"

"It feels alright."

The camera-guy hit his face with his free hand.

"Let's try something else," the boom-man interrupted. "Why don't you tell us, how do you impress by this place so far?"

"It's freezing," Egypt said, his eyes closed and his mouth stretched in dissatisfaction.

"And other than that?"

"It's so quiet here. I am not really used to this, but it's nice."

"How do you _feel_ about that?"

Egypt thought about that for a while. "Quite good, actually. Thanks."

"Eeerghheheewhgh!"

**x**

"Look who I've brought!"

Denmark stepped in confidently, Sealand sitting on his shoulders and smiles from ear to ear. Egypt didn't bother to close the door behind them, once they were in. Denmark put Sealand on floor, stretching his head.

Seeing there isn't anything special going on, Egypt got back to sit and examined his new founding – a cooking book.

"I'm bored."

Egypt didn't respond, but after a few minutes, he felt a pair of eyes on him. He looked up at Denmark, his eyebrows lifted in confuse. "You are talking to me?"

He nodded.

"Do something, then."

"Like what?"

"I don't know."

Denmark yawned something and sunk unto the nearest couch. Egypt returned to the book, narrowing his eyes in concentrate. _Can it be_?

"Say," he turned to Denmark, holding the book so the latter could see its cover, "what's written on it?"

Denmark opened his eyes in surprise, "can't you read?"

"I can, but I am not sure I got it right. It's not the alphabet, I am used to," he added in self-justification.

Grinning in self-esteem, Denmark straightened up and said, "it says, _How to Cook_."

"No kidding." He looked at the book in amazement.

"So, you can't read a normal alphabet?"

"'Normal alphabet'?"

"Yeah. Like the one we're using," Denmark said.

"You can't describe an alphabet as normal, just because that is the one you are using by," Egypt said, "and, I _can_ read it; not as fast as you might, but I can."

"How come you know two different alphabets?" Denmark looked at him in confuse.

"It's not that hard," he shrugged. "England taught me.[3]"

"Wait, it's that odd script that's written from right to left?"

"Yes."

"Isn't it retarded?"

"No."

There was quite a long pause; Egypt returned to that book, while Denmark seemed as he was thinking of something. Eventually, he asked, "you're Arab, right?"

Egypt looked at him, raising his eyebrow. "Yes."

"So… how many sheep did your husband pay to get you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Arabs buy their wives, aren't they? I heard you pay with sheep and camels and horses. How many did he give your mother to have you? I always curious about how much one worths. Paying in farm animals, of course."

"It doesn't really work like that…"

"Oh, so how does it work?"

"Matching, someone's own will… it is changing between the varied sub-societies, really."

"Will? I though there was no room for women's will in the Arab culture."

"In pedant societies. We are living in modern times, after all."

"Really? I thought that all Middle East nations were still somewhat pedant. Take Israel for example, doesn't he eat your people or something?"

"No!"

"He doesn't? Wow, things have changed!" he sounded sincerely surprised.

"You are kidding, right?"

Denmark looked at Egypt, still surprised. "No, I really thought Turkey bought you. Whatever."

"Okay."

Denmark paused for a few moments, thinking. "So if he didn't buy you, how did you two meet? I thought you were on the other side of the ocean."

"Not exactly. We used to be neighbours once."

"Oh, really? So when did you move to your current place?"

"In the basis, I have always been in my current place, but there were times when my mum's Empire was spread all over the eastern coast of the Mediterranean."

"Oh, so there was time when your mum controlled the whole area like I did? What happened?"

"Yes. Well, she was really powerful," he shrugged, "she was also allied with Israel's mum, who was pretty strong by her own…[4]"

"Oh, so your mum and that maniac's mum were once close? So how come you're not married to that guy?"

"We are cousins."

Totally surprised, and somewhat disgusted, Denmark exclaimed, "you're related?"

"Yes."

"But, aren't you enemies now? What happened, Israel's mum screwed with others and wasn't faithful to your mum?" he chuckled at his own sayings.

Egypt paled at once, shocked. It took him some several minutes, to gather himself enough to respond. "H-hey, our mothers were sisters, you know."

"So? You're pagans, you allow inter family marriage."

"First of all, Israel's mum wasn't a pagan. Second, it is true they were pretty close to each other, but they were not married or anything; they were good friends."

"Oh, right."

"You don't even know them!"

"So?"

"So, stop saying such rude things about other people's mothers."

"I'm not saying anything rude!" Denmark exclaimed in self-justification, "I'm trying to have a conversation with you."

"Okay."

"Wh't're ye' doin' her'?"

Sweden was standing right to the threshold, glaring at Denmark with a frown. Denmark turned to him, a sly smirk on his lips, "I brought Sealand back, so I thought I'd stay here and have a little chat with Egypt."

"G't out."

Denmark got up. "See ye' tomorrow!" he cried and waved, a moment before he went out. Sweden shut off the door behind him, in more force than need.

"S'rry," he mumbled, turning to Egypt. "He h's th't tend'ncy, t' 'nnoy p'ple."

"That's okay."

There were a few moments of awkward silence, until Sweden cleared his throat and blushed in embarrassment, "Ah'll g' mak' dinn'r."

Egypt checked his watch. "So early?"

Sweden nodded. "W' 'sually eat 't thes' h'rs."

"I see."

Sweden went to the kitchen; just when he was out of the room, someone yelled, "a~nd, cut!", and the filming-team got out from their hiding places – behind the porcelain closet and under the couch. "You thought we missed the conversation, you had with Denmark, ah? Do you?"

Egypt shrugged.

"Guess what? We have it, filmed and recorded, and we'll use it for the promo whether you're going to like it or not!"

"I wouldn't mind."

"Good for you!"

They walked away, grinning to themselves in victory. _If that is what make them happy…_ he thought and walked away himself.

**x**

"Dinn'r's r'dy."

Sealand already sat next to the table, when Egypt entered, taking his sit next to the kid.

"You need some help, Sweden?" he asked.

"N', th'nks."

He got in himself, putting a large bowl on table, and took his own sit. Egypt blinked.

"Is this roast?"

"Yeah."

"We usually eat beef for dinner," Sealand explained in a didactic-some tone. To Egypt's confused expression, he asked, "what, you're vegetarian or something?"

"No. I am not used to eat meat for dinner."

Sweden filled their plates, mumbling "_smaklig måltid_" as they started to eat.

Egypt couldn't remember, when the last time he ate beef was; there might have been one time, when England was still there and was desperate enough to invite him to eat, but even then, it was England's cooking, so it couldn't be counted really. He barely resisted the reflex of spitting this.

"It's pretty good," he lied.

"Ah'm glad."

For his sake, Egypt has rather swallowed his plate as soon as possible. He was quite surprised, Sweden wasn't trying to force him another one, not to speak about that he did faces of disbelief when Egypt said he's full; not that he minded, mind you.

After they finished, Sweden took Sealand to bath while Egypt did the dishes. The waters were freezing; he tried his best to come with the minimum contact with them, and yet his hands turned livid and shivered irrationally. He couldn't help but moan in relief, when he's done.

"You're going to tell me a bed-time story again, right?" he turned his face to Sealand, his hair still went and dressed in pyjamas.

"Yes."

He followed Sealand upstairs – the kid holding his hand – to his room, where he pounced into his bed, covering himself; Egypt sat next to his side.

"The first story was told during the wedding night of the king and his new wife," Egypt started, "but the story itself begins many years, before the king and his new bride were born.

"Once upon a time, there was a merchant who crossed the desert with his convoy. The merchant was tired and hungry, so the convoy parked in oasis, where the merchant sat next to a palm tree and ate some fruit, which its kernel he threw away.

"Before the merchant realised, what's going on, a Jinni appeared. He was big and mighty. The merchant flinched.

"_Were you the one, who ate the fruit and threw its kernel away_? he asked.

"_Yes_, the merchant replied.

"_The kernel you threw, hit my son and killed him_, the Jinni said. _Hence, I give you one month, to farewell those you loved and cared; then, you shall return this very place and sit under this very palm tree, then I will restore your soul to the creator_."

"He's gonna kill the merchant?" Sealand yelled in horror.

"Shh…" Sealand covered his mouth. "Yes," Egypt responded.

"Why?" Sealand asked, almost whisper this time, removing his hands asides.

Egypt shrugged, "he killed his son."

"It's not a reason, to kill him!" Sealand protested.

"You never heard of vendetta before?"

Sealand tossed his head.

"Well… when you kill someone, the family of the victim has the right to kill you, or any other member of your family, to avenge the death. That's vendetta."

"But, why? No one tells them to!"

"It's a cultural thing; like your father did some cruel things, when he was a Viking."

"Papa did bad things?" Sealand was agitated.

"Some of them. Yes. Can I continue?"

"O-okay."

"So, the merchant had no other choice, but follow his orders. He got back home and told his family what happened, and they spent the last month together. When the month passed, they cried and farewell.

"The merchant returned to the very place and sat next to the very palm tree, he was sitting when he threw the kernel that killed the Jinni's son, and waited.

"An old nomad passed, with his two female hunting dogs. The merchant told him his story, and the old nomad sat next to him and said, he will be waiting with him.

"Some more time passed, and then a Sheikh passed, with his doe which he held with a chain; the merchant told him his story; the Sheikh sat next to him, and told him he will be waiting along.

"Third passed a Fakir, with his female mule. The merchant told him his story as well, and the Fakir has also sat next to them, and said he will be waiting with them.

"So the three sat next to the merchant, and heard his story till dawn has arrived. Then, they decided to try to save him.

"Good night, England's brother."

Egypt petted Sealand's hair and got up. Sealand cried in frustration and got into a sitting position, grabbing Egypt's sleeve a moment before he got any farer. "You haven't finished!"

"Yes."

"Then don't go away! Finish it!"

"I will continue tomorrow," Egypt smirked and winked. "Now, go to sleep."

"Okay," Sealand mumbled with a frown and lie down, covering himself with his blanket again. "Good night."

_-Fin-_

Special thanks for **Emma**, once an innocent little Norwegian, who donated her poor soul for the name of science, to be my inspiration for hyper!Norway.

Another special thanks for **Elise**, also once an innocent Norwegian, for her explanations about Scandinavia and the characters' features.

A huge special thanks for my dearest of all, **Rei**, who has actually made the conversation between Egypt and Denmark with me. I love you so much!

_Hummus _– a Middle Eastern spread, made of beans.

_Falafel_ – a ball-shaped dish made of beans and spices, original for Egypt. In Egypt, it is usually made by cooked broad beans, which can be deadly for people with G6PD.

_Sverige – _Sweden (Swedish/Norwegian/Danish)

_Svíþjóð_ – Sweden (Icelandic)

_Noregur _– Norway (Icelandic)

_Min kære_ – my dear (Danish)

_Smaklig måltid_ – Bon Appetite (Swedish)

_Jinni_ – a supernatural creature in the Arabian folklore, that is said to give a free will; the Jinni could be either good or bad.

_Sheikh_ – a term of honour in Arabic, which means 'elder'.

_Fakir_ – a Muslim Sufi ascetic; means 'poor' in Arabic.

[1] England is known for the country, netted with the most security cameras.

[2] There really _is_ a condom-shaped bomb, owns by Norway.

[3] Egypt, Israel, Cyprus, Jordan, Iraq, Kuwait and some parts of Saudi Arabia, Yemen, Oman and the United Emirates – were parts of the British Empire in its twilight days; it lasted for only 30 years, but English is still an official language De Facto in most of these countries.

[4] During the Biblical era, Egypt was Israel's closest ally.


	7. Day 3: Finland's POV

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 3 - FINLAND'S POV**

Sharp screams and shouting cut the morning's serene. Finland got up at once, almost falling off his bed by the sudden. He found himself tied by his blanket, for his hasty movements, but he couldn't try to calm just for the time it takes to get himself free; that happened after somewhat a long struggle. Still wearing the T-shirt and cotton pants he was sleeping in, he hurried to the dinning-room, from where all those sounds seemed to come from.

"What happened?" he asked breathlessly, as he leant against the threshold, panting. He couldn't tell who seemed more surprised: him, or the questioning faces which were hung on him.

Morocco stood when leaning her weight on table next to Turkey, a rustle from the pots indicates that she is cooking something. Saudi Arabia sat in front of Turkey, still with his best uniform but this time his black hair was exposed, his hands crossed on his chest while his face were lifted in arrogance; next to him, there was a young man with a chopped dark hair, light-brown eyes and a somewhat paler skin compared to the others, dressed in neat Western clothes and his hands also crossed, though his expression was of dissatisfaction; Oman – who seemed as he was about to cry – sat between him, to an incredibly familiar young girl with a smooth black hair, somewhat tired dark eyes and dressed in a simple jeans skirt and a T-shirt, a gentle smile on her face.

"Finland!" Morocco exclaimed and rushed to him, pulling him into her chest with a warm hug. Still a little bit in shock, he put his shaky hands on her back. She bent to place a wet kiss on each of his cheeks, and then moved away. He smiled awkwardly, scanning everyone with a confused gaze.

He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a word. He cleared his throat, and said, "I… I thought s-something had h-h-happened…"

"Really?" Turkey raised an eyebrow and exchanged looks with the others for a moment. "Oh… no, no," he smiled, "we were just speaking.[1]"

"I-I see."

He approached Turkey, to shake is hand for a morning's greeting, and was pulled into a hug again; when Turkey released him, he turned to Saudia, who shook his offered hand but also got up and bent forward a little, to kiss his cheeks. Then he turned to the man, who sat next to him. "Hi. I'm Finland, nice to meet you."

The man frowned, saying nothing. Noticing that, he asked, "Who are you?"

"Jordan," the man replied. "I introduced you myself already, but you ignored."

Finland blushed. "I-I'm so s-sorry…" he mumbled, feeling how his cheeks burned even more, when he mumbled, "I… couldn't remember."

"Right." Jordan rolled his eyes and looked away.

Finland turned to the girl. He could have told for sure he had already seen her a few times in the past, but he couldn't spot on when, or where. "I think I already know you," he stated, when he offered her his hand.

"Yes," she took his hand and shook it.

"We have met before."

"Yes."

This sweet soft voice… he heard this voice before, and more than once. In a matter of moments, everything was gathering together; the sudden comprehension slapped in his face.

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. His mouth was dry, and it took him a few moments to gather himself enough, to ask, "weren't you the girl, who lived with Poland?[2]"

It was insane. He knew it was insane, but he couldn't help uttering the question, for the moment it came up to his mind. After all, what's the chance, that girl was still alive? He remembered her, when he and Sweden claimed for Poland's place: a homeless nation, who was kicked away from everyone else's door, and oppressed and persecuted by everyone at the same time; he remembered, how Sweden and Denmark saved some of her people, by hiding them at Sweden's house, but no one ever heard from her again ever since.[3]

"Yes."

The respond rolled from her mouth nonchalant; the rest didn't seem too surprised either, as much as he was. He just couldn't get it. _Maybe I am just dreaming_? He thought and tossed his head. Nothing seemed to change, however, when he opened his eyes. _So perhaps I wasn't dreaming at all_.

"I thought you were dead," he admitted.

She grabbed her chair with her fists. "You saw me just yesterday…" the girl replied in a wondering tone. To his still confused expression, she noted, "I'm Israel."

"E-excuse me?"

"What?"

"I am afraid I didn't understand…"

"Didn't understand what?"

"You said what?"

"I said I'm Israel."

"Really?…"

She rolled her eyes angrily. _Brilliant, Finland, _he smiled anxiously. _You just managed to piss someone off. Brilliant_. "Ergh…" he mumbled, emitting a weak cough, "I always thought you were a guy, actually."

She started at him in an obvious insult. "Only a moment ago, you said you recognised me as the _girl_ who lived with Poland."

Finland blushed. "I…" he started, when he felt a slight wave of shivering. He waited, hesitating, re-thinking about everything and considering his words. "Maybe I'm just confused…" he admitted.

"Confused about _what_?" she snorted impatiently, "I lived with Poland, I came back home –" Finland could swear, he heard a cough from Saudia direction, "– end of story."

His eyes were now hung on Oman, who leant his feet against the table and covered his face with his hands, mumbling something. "He has been here since 4am," Morocco said quietly, when she noticed he was about to ask. "He is just tired. Don't worry."

_Did she just say 4am_? Finland looked at her confused, but just before he had the chance to speak, she straightened up. "The coffee's supposed to be ready by now!" she said and headed to the stove.

Turkey grabbed his shoulders, as he was about to tell him something. Finland looked at him; he saw his eyes move behind the mask, to Morocco's direction, a second before he turned to him again. "Try not touching the cookies," he mumbled, leaving Finland's shoulders and pretending to cough.

Morocco returned after a moment, putting a tray with hot and good-looking cookies in the middle of table, then a small glass of black coffee in front of each of them, but Finland, who she gave a weak tea. "I wasn't sure, you are used to the sort of coffee we usually drink," she responded his questioning expression, smiling to him softly.

"T-thank you…" he murmured and grabbed the glass in his palms.

Israel took one of these cookies without thinking twice; the rest ignored it, concentrating over their drinks. These cookies looked delicious – Finland almost dared to put his hands of one of them – when he felt something kicking him under the table. He looked around to catch Turkey's face; he tossed his head carefully, so Morocco won't notice it. Finland blinked, to show him he understood, and looked away.

"Won't you take any?" Morocco asked. "I just brought them out, you know."

There was an awkward silence that lasted for a few minutes, when they only glared at each other. Finland was the one to eventually speak, and asked, "Y-you were talking to me?"

Morocco thought about this for a second, then shrugged and nodded. "There is enough for everyone, don't be so shy."

He blushed and said nothing, as Israel took another one. "They are excellent," she stated, causing Morocco to poof her chest in pride. "Thank you, _ayúni_."

From his eyes' angle, he saw Saudia bend to Jordan, to mumble something in his ear. Jordan frowned and tossed his head, leaning back on his chair just when Saudia touched his palm and mumbled something again. Jordan seemed as he was in some inner struggle, when finally he nodded and took one of these cookies, biting it.

Then he screamed.[4]

He spitted the pieces from his mouth, coughing and wildly waving his hands; Saudia delivered him some waters, though he obviously couldn't resist a chuckle. Oman was worriedly looking at him.

If looks could kill, that would have been exactly what happens to Jordan, as Morocco was just _glaring_ at him, her hands on her waists and her eyes narrowed dangerously. "There are neater ways," she murmured softly, grinning from her lip's angle, "to tell someone, you don't like their food."

Jordan paled. He opened his mouth to speak, but Morocco cut him before he had the chance, to say anything, "We will discuss this."

Some voices were carried from outside. Turkey leant back with his chair, so he could get a better look over the window; Finland, who leant a little with his own chair, noticed someone standing there, knocking the door and screaming something, he couldn't understand.

Turkey sighed, before he exclaimed, "Just get inside!"

He sighed again, when the figure disappeared, obviously on its way to get in. The others, he noticed, weren't too happy either, by that fact. In a matter of moments, the front door opened, and soon a young man, with black eyes and a smooth black hair that fall on his eyes, dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans, entered into the kitchen. "I just sa –" he started, when his eyes fall on Finland. He stopped and examined him for a while, before he asked, "who are you?"

"F-Finland," he replied, trying to keep up his voice, "I am swapped with Egypt, for that programme…"

"Ah…" the man said, nodding. He paused, than offered him his hand, a friendly smile on his face. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Iran."

Finland took his hand hesitantly, shaking it. "N-nice to m-meet you, too."

Iran then turned to the others, hugging and kissing them for greeting. He completely ignored Israel, who frowned and stared blankly on air, but stood behind her chair, grabbing its backrest. "I spoke with Germany earlier," he stated, smiles lightly to Turkey. Finland noticed how Israel losing the colour of her face, how her eyes widening and how her body hardening at once. Iran's smile, from the second hand, stretched. "Said he will come later for some coffee and hung around. You'll come?"

Finland just blinked, when Israel's sit was empty; grinning to himself in victory, Iran took it. It took Finland a while to measure what just happened, and a few more moments to notice Israel was lying under the table, her knees folded tight to her chest and her body shrinks.

He hurried to get down to his knees, and sent a hesitated finger to touch the girl's shoulder lightly. "W-what's wrong?…"

"_Zey zainen kommendik_!" she covered her head with her hands, "_zi kommen for mir_!"

"Who's coming?"

"_Hagestapo_!" she exclaimed in horror, shrinking her body even more, and started humming, "_zog niszt keinmol az du geist dem letzten veg, chotsz himlen blayene farszteln bloye teg…_"

"I-Israel?"

He felt a hand rests on his shoulder and looked up; Turkey was looking at him and dragged him up, to return to sit. Once he did so, the latter turned to Iran, "brilliant. Now it will take hours to bring her out!"

Iran snorted, "like I care."

Hesitantly, Finland pulled Turkey's sleeve. "W-what happens?…"

"Traumas," Turkey replied nonchalant, "it happens every once in a while."

"What I was trying to say earlier…" Iran interrupted.

"Do you want some coffee?" Morocco cut him, smiles lightly from ear to ear.

"No, thanks.[5]"

"Okay," she said and shrugged.

Iran blushed, "w-won't you make me one, anyway?"

"You said, you didn't want any, so I won't force you," she crossed her hands over her chest.

"B-but I do want…"

"Then go and make yourself."

Cursing under his breathe, Iran got up and headed to the marble. "You better stop with these silly little games of you, if you want something to be done!" she called after him, adding "punk" quietly.

"I'm sorry…" Turkey mumbled, looking down to Finland; he sounded helpless almost. "Su-san is also fighting with Denmark all the time," Finland remarked.

"T-they do?" Finland couldn't see it, but to judge by the voice, he assumed Turkey was lifting his eyebrow.

He nodded. "Yes."

Iran returned to sit with his own glass of coffee. "Cyprus is still asleep?" he asked.

"Yes. Why?"

"Just wondering."

Finland pulled Turkey's sleeve again, "s-shouldn't I go wake him up?"

"Neh, let him sleep."

There was a silence of a few moments. Finland paused, thinking about this for a while. "Say…" he finally asked, "is Cyprus your biological son?"

"Yes," Turkey sounded almost insult.

"Um…" Finland blushed, unable to speak for the past few moments. He coughed. "S-Su-san and I adopted Sealand," he explained, moving uncomfortably on his chair under Turkey's gaze, "s-so I was w-wondering if it's the same with C-Cyprus…"

Turkey's face softened to his explanation. "I see…" he mumbled, pausing for some while before blushing himself, "it's a little…" he coughed, "_sensitive_ issue. About Cyprus, I mean…" he cleared his throat, coughing again.

"Why?"

Turkey turned his face to Oman, who still held his face with his hands and seemed ignorant to them, "it's related to his mum, sort of."

"Egypt?" Finland asked in confusion.

"Well…" Turkey cleared his throat, blushing even harder, "I told you, it's complicated…"

"Isn't it Greece?"

All eyes turned to the threshold, where there was a young man dressed in an olive jumpsuit above a striped shirt, his auburn hair falls on his forehead and his amber eyes widened questioningly, a bunch of cyclamen in his hand.[6]

"I hate you." Turkey grinned his teeth, barely holding himself. "I hate you so much, you fuck…"

"_You_ hate me?" the boy muttered bitterly, lifting an eyebrow. "Don't let _me_ start."

"Utter one more sound, you fuck, and I swear I'll…"

"You'll _what_? Slaughter my people again?"

"You're a bloody liar…"

"Call me whatever you want, but we both know what the truth is!"

"Armenia!"

Finland almost fell off his chair, when Israel stormed out and jumped on Armenia, throwing them both on floor. Armenia blushed like a mad; Turkey, who was about to jump over Armenia himself, stood next to them. "Hey, Israel," he grinned, "is that your gun in your pocket, or you're really glad to see him?"

"Both," she said after a little pause, and got up, helping Armenia to get up himself. He smoothened his suit and then handed the flowers to Israel, "here. I picked them for you."

"Cyclamens!" Israel exclaimed in excite, taking the flowers, smiling sweetly. "Thank you so much!"

Armenia blushed again, "y-you're welcome."

"I didn't fully get," Iran started, turning to Turkey, who returned to sit meanwhile, "what that programme you are taking a part at, is all about."

"It's… some sort of a project, when you take two couples with completely different backgrounds, and swap them for two weeks, to see what happens," Finland replied, "and on the same time, to learn about the other's culture and understand it."

"Sounds nice."

Finland smiled awkwardly, "well, yes."

"You're supposed to do something, or just being hosted?"

"He's about to _live_ with us," Turkey explained. "During the first week, he follows our lifestyle; then, we'll follow his lifestyle for a week."

"Are you going to get anything, for doing it?"

"The experience."

"Got it." He paused. "So… you're taking him around and such?"

"Not yet."

"So why won't you all come to my place?" he turned to Finland, "you know, I have a really beautiful gulf…"

Turkey's eyes lit. "Why go so far, if we can simply take him to the canal?" he smiled and nodded to himself. "That could be nice. Ever been to Suez, Finny?"

"Uh?" Finland jumped a little by the sudden turning and tossed his head. "N-no…"

"Excellent." Turkey got up, his both hands are still on table. "Oman, you're coming?"

Oman glared tiredly to the direction of the living room. Only then, Finland noticed Yemen way lying on couch, sleeping probably. "You'll be able to rest there more comfortably," Turkey added.

"A-alright…" Oman mumbled in respond.

"How about you, Saudia?"

"Yes."

He put a hand on Finland's shoulder. "You have any swimming suit, Finland?"

"Y-yes, I-I think…"

"Good. You go and change, I will go wake Cyprus." He paused. "Morocco, my darling?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Mind to pack some staff?"

"Sure, _chabíbi_."

"Israel, you're also coming?"

"Yes. I'll just go bring some things from home, I'll see you there." She grabbed Armenia's hand and went out.

Finland stood still for a while. _Well, a family trip. It can't be bad…_ he mentally shrugged and headed to his room, to change.

**x**

"Going somewhere?"

Syria peeked out the window, opening it when they looked over his direction.

"Yes, to the canal. Wanna join?" Turkey exclaimed.

"Yes." He got back in and shut the window, getting out after a few minutes. "Lebanon will come in a sec, he's picking some things."

"It's you again!" Yemen yelled, for the moment he saw Lebanon coming out, a parasol and a huge plastic bag in his hands. "Going to your honey moon?"

"N-no!"

Yemen turned to Syria, "you must tame her! She's pretty rebellious…"

"I'm a guy!" Lebanon blushed in anger.

"You always say, you're shy, but it's not an excuse!"

"I'm a _guy_, not shy!"

"I'm not deaf, young lady! I heard you were saying you're not shy for the first time!" he turned to Syria again, "you aren't doing much better, young man! You know she's shy, you should make a move!"

Syria grinned, "it's a foreplay."

"S-Syria!"

"Come, honey…" Syria wrapped his hands around Lebanon's waists, kissing his neck. The latter blushed like a mad and tried to shake him off, but with his hands full and his body stroked by Syria, he couldn't do much but yelling at him to stop – what only encouraged him to continue.

"Let's go already!" Cyprus said, taking Finland's hand.

"Yes. Come on, all," Turkey took Cyprus' other hand as they started to go, the others soon to follow.

**x**

As expected, Israel and Armenia were already there, fixing a folded table. Syria pushed Lebanon a little, "c'mon, lazy butt, unpack everything!"

Frowning and cursing under his breathe, Lebanon turned to unpack some sheets and place them on the bare sand, with Armenia and Oman hurrying to assistant; once they finished, Morocco approached, dropped the things she was carrying, then lay down on her back, her hands under her head and her legs crossed; taking his arm, Oman led Yemen to sit next to her.

Jordan took a sheet and placed it a few metres away from the one, the others were sitting on, letting Saudia to settle on before he sat next to him; Syria claimed his own sheet, shouting at Lebanon carelessly.

Both Turkey and Finland helped Lebanon and Armenia to place some other sheets; Cyprus took a skewer and started poking Yemen's leg, who remained asleep; Iran sat on the nearest sheet and tsked.

Turkey fell into a cross-legged sitting in a sigh, a hookah[7] in his hands. He put it on front of them and started to prepare it to Iran's eager eyes. "Take the first toke," he said, handing the pipe to Iran. "Ever tried this before?" he asked Finland, who only then sat next to him.

"I-I don't think…"

"There's always a first time," Iran stated, "I think you're going to like it. Here," he delivered the pipe to Finland. The younger held it in both hands, looking at the two men in hesitation. There was something about that thing, that stressed him. "What exactly is that thing?"

"You don't know, what's hookah?" Turkey asked in surprise.

"I-I know, I heard about this before…" he blushed a little, "I'm just not so sure, what I'm supposed to do with it."

"Smoke it."

"I-I don't really smoke…"

"It's not like smoking a cigarette," Turkey explained, "it's a completely different thing. It won't hurt you to try."

_I hope so… _Finland thought and attached his lips to the mouthpiece, taking a short inhalation. The smoke that filled his mouth choked him and he immediately started to cough heavily, carelessly dropping the pipe as he put his both hands on his chest. Turkey hurried to strike on his back. "You're suppose to fill your lungs, not your mouth," he said, letting go a slight, kind chuckle, "no wonder, you almost chocked. Try again," he returned the pipe to Finland, "but remember to inhale it to your lungs, not to suck it."

Finland nodded and this time, took the inhalation to his lungs. It was flavoured like mint, he noticed, but he still felt a little bit dizzy because of the smoke and preferred to return the pipe to Turkey. "Thanks, but I… I don't think I liked it," he admitted with a blush.

"It's okay, no one demands you to like it," Turkey smiled kindly and petted his shoulder for a while, then took an inhalation. When he was about to take another one, a small hand caught it. Palestine was standing behind Turkey and took a deep inhalation herself. "Hi, Finni," she smiled at him, when she returned the pipe to the somewhat-shocked Turkey, taking her sit between him to Iran.

"What the hell you're doing here?" Turkey asked.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"C'mon, Palestine. You are so much better than that."

"Alright, alright," the girl rolled her eyes. "Just anted to spend some time with my sweet family, can't I?"

"Israel would get pissed, you know."

"I don't give a shit about her." Palestine grinned, then turned to Israel. "Hey, bitch!" she exclaimed, still grinning and now waving the latter, once she noticed her.

"Wh –" Israel started, her face turning red in anger, when her head moved violently left, causing her to emit a painful shriek. "She has Tourette Syndrome," Turkey mumbled to his ear. Israel, meanwhile, only forced herself a sweet smile and waved back. Disappointed almost, Palestine pouted and caught the pipe from Iran's hands.

Soon, Saudia, Jourdan and Oman joined their sheet, to smoke the hookah along with them. Feels as he will choke, if he would stay there for any longer, Finland got up and started walking around.

Cyprus noticed him and pulled his sleeve. "You want to get into the water with us?" he asked, pointing at Lebanon. "They are a little chilly, but it's good."

Cyprus still held his sleeve; a quick gaze to the waters, proved they really are fine, seemingly. He nodded.

"I suggest you, to stay with your sandals," the kid said, seeing Finland was about to take them off. "You can also use my snorkel."

Finland blushed a little. "T-thank you."

He let Cyprus lead him to the waters; Lebanon was already sunk to his knees, holding the brims of his galabiya so it won't get wet – unlike the others, Finland noticed, who turned it off much earlier – bending and moving his free hand under the waters, as he was looking for something.

"Do you have much of waters in your place?" Cyprus asked.

"Over one thousand lakes," Finland smiled, puffing his chest in pride. Cyprus nodded in impression, but soon his attention was attracted by some fish that passed nearby his leg, he started chasing after.

The waters were much warm than he expected; hot, almost, but it felt good. Although he still wore his sandals, he could have felt the stony ground under his feet. He got deeper into the waters, until it reached his waists, pulled the snorkel on and dove.

He has done this before; he dove at Sweden's, Norway's, Iceland's, Denmark's and even at his own place, and yet he has never seen anything like a real reef before; he was speechless. _The snorkel…_ he smiled to himself, _they knew, I would have to use it_.

He got out the waters after what felt as forever, to sharp screams from his right. He hurried to turn his face, to see Lebanon – carried by Armenia to the shore – screaming in pain, while Israel – barely holds her amusement – was waiting for them on shore, helping Armenia to put Lebanon on a dry towel, much to his protests.

Finland rushed to them. "What happened?"

"This," Israel took Lebanon's left leg and held it so Finland would see a nasty injury half-covering his foot; Lebanon screamed, cursed and tried to kick her, but Armenia grabbed his hands tight, telling him to relax. "He stepped on a sea urchin," she explained.

"D-don't we have to call someone?" Finland paled.

"What for?" she raised an eyebrow, "I know how to handle worse things. Now, now, Lebanon," she patter his healthy leg, "you just try to relax."

"I'll relax when you'll take your stinky hands off, kike!" he hissed, swallowing a painful moan.

"That's enough, Lebanon!" Israel snapped in anger, "I'm doing you a favour! Shut up now, or we won't give you any treatment!"

Lebanon gulped and nodded.

"You better go and put some sun cream, Finland," Armenia suggested, "you are so pale."

"O-okay."

**x**

"It's like snowboarding," Finland stated happily, as he sat behind Cyprus on a large piece of plastic, holding its sides tight.

"It's much more fun than snow," Cyprus said, "you'll see. Push."

Finland pushed and their little slide skied down the dune, rapidly than he has expected. Cyprus was right – it was much more fun, as the layer of sand was smoothly constant and the wind hitting his face was warm and not freezing.

They repeated it a few more times, until Turkey approached. "Time to get back home, kids," he said. "It's getting late."

"It was so much fun," Finland said, hugging Cyprus' shoulders.

The boy smirked, "told ye'."

_-Fin-_

A special and wholehearted thank, to the amazing **KimikoToudaiji**, who allowed me to use her adorable design for Armenia's character.

Link: **http:// kimikotoudaiji. deviantart. com/** (erase the spaces)

_Ayúni_ – my eyes (Arabic)

_Zey zainen kommendik, zi kommen for mir_ – they are coming, they are coming for me (Yiddish)

_Hagestápo_ – the Gestapo (Hebrew)

_Zog niszt keinmol az du geist dem letzten veg, chotsz himlen blayene farszteln bloye teg…_- never tell me, you are going on your last road, though the blue skies may be concealed by leaden clouds (from the song of the Jewish Partisans of WWII, Yiddish)

_Chabíbi_ – my dear (Arabic)

[1] Middle Easterners have this tendency, of speaking really loud, when speaking to each other, in such way it sounds like they are arguing, to someone who is watching from outside.

[2] Jews settled in Poland, ever since the country was established; it was the largest and main community in the world, and its history dated back over a millennium.

[3] The reference is for the rescue of the Danish Jews, on 1-2 October, 1943.

[4] Moroccan cookies really are that hot.

[5] In Persian/Iranian tradition, accepting something (present, tea and such) without going back and forth refusing it for a several times first, is regarded as rude.

[6] Cyclamen is Israel's national flower.

[7] Hookah is some facility for smoking tobacco (usually flavoured), that is pretty popular around the Middle East. The common saying, it ain't like smoking a cigarette as the smoke is filtered by passing through waters, but in fact it's like smoking 10 cigarettes in one inhale.


	8. Day 3: Egypt's POV

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 3 - EGYPT'S POV**

"E-Eg'pt?"

"Mm?" Egypt mumbled, not wanting to open his eyes just yet; he felt so comfortable, at last, he didn't want anything to ruin that moment.

"Eg'pt," Sweden called again.

"Wha'?" he asked with a sigh, snuggle a bit against the soft cloth he put under his head.

"Why ar' ye' sleep'n' 'n ye'r s'tcas'?"

"It's so warm inside…"

Egypt felt a hand grabbing his shoulder and pulling him into a sitting position. He rubbed his eyes, carrying a blurred gaze to Sweden, who seemed to blush a little. The room was much warmer, than he remembers it was when he went to sleep – his eyes caught a blow heater next to his bad – but he was still shivering. He got up, putting on the sweater he used as a pillow.

"N'rway 'nv'ted us 'ver," Sweden said, still seemed embarrassed a bit.

"Okay." Egypt paused. "When?"

"Now."

He narrowed his eyes in concentrating. "What time is it?"

"Almost twelve."

"Ah."

Egypt followed Sweden downstairs, where Sealand – already dressed for exit – was playing with that white, fluffy dog, that attacked him on the other day; same with the filming-team, who took shots from almost every possible angle of the boy. They turned their attention to Egypt, however, as soon as they noticed him, hurrying to approach.

"Good morning, sleepy head," the camera-guy said, encircling Egypt in attempt to find the best angle to shot. Egypt waved at him, just when Sealand had literally jump on him, hugging his waist tight while the dog barked in happiness. Grinning from ear to ear, Egypt hugged back.

"Sh'll we g' n'w?"

"Can Hana-Tamago come along?" Sealand asked, looking at Sweden in bagging eyes.

Sweden blushed helplessly, "S-she bett'r wa't 't hom'."

"That's what papa said," the kid said to the dog, who just barked in return. Then he took Egypt's hand and so they came out of the house. "Do you have a dog?" Sealand asked.

"I have a jackal," Egypt responded. "It doesn't really have a name, though… it just goes by 'jackal'."

"What is a jackal?" Sealand seemed confuse.

"Some species of dog… like wolf or hyena."

"Hana-Tamago is just a dog," Sealand said, "but I think she is pretty strong."

"I am sure."

"H're we're."

They stopped in front of a lovable wooden house, with a magnificent, astonishing mountainous line, from the back; the garden in front was small and neat and was decorated by lovable trees and berry bushes. Sweden knocked the door; soon after, Norway appeared on the threshold, inviting them to come inside, where Iceland was already waiting.

"Can I offer you some lefse[1] and coffee?"

"Y's, pl'se."

Norway nodded, "alright." He paused for a little while, and said, "have your sits, please," as he went off to kitchen. The three of them turned to Iceland, who shook their hands for greeting. They sat in silence for the while it took Norway to return and sit along.

"H'w m'ch tim' left?"

"Time left for what?" Egypt interrupted.

"Sol'r ecl'pse," Sweden responded, "Ah w'nted t' tell ye' 'rlier, b' –"

Egypt paled at once. "Solar eclipse, you said?" he cut his speech, panicked. The three men looked at him in confuse, before Norway nodded.

Egypt was completely white. "It's not good…" he mumbled.

"What?"

"Solar eclipse," Egypt responded. "It's a bad sign…"

"Guess who's here!"

Norway rolled his eyes; Iceland sighed aloud and Sweden grunted, when loud knocks hit the front door. Norway got up with a sigh and turned to open it, just to be pulled into Denmark's embrace. He pushed him off quickly and returned to sit. Denmark dropped himself into the couch, next to Sweden, whom he wrapped his arm around the shoulders. Sweden shook it off, obviously annoyed. "When it's gonna start?" Denmark asked, grinning widely.

Norway looked over a beautiful wooden clock, above the fireplace. "Half an hour."

_Half an hour_! How come, the Gods' failure became a common property? Without noticing it, he started panting.

"What's with you?" Denmark asked.

"Solar eclipse isn't a good sign," he responded quietly – a pity attempt to control himself – and gulped. "It happens when the Gods fail to guard the boats of Ra[2]!"

Denmark raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you Muslim?"

"It's not that easy to forget old superstitions, you know."

They finished their drinks in a peaceful silence. Egypt eyed Sealand; it was obvious, that the boy was bothered: he glared at the floor with a frown and moved his legs exaggeratingly. The filming-team didn't seem much satisfied either, yet, insisted to film this whole scene.

"Shall we go outside?" Norway suggested. "The eclipse is about to start in a few minutes."

"Y's," Sweden got up along Norway, helping him to clean the table. "Let's go outside," Iceland got up moments after, looking at Egypt and Sealand. Sealand almost jumped from his sit, caught by Denmark, who put him on his shoulders, much to his excite. Iceland grunted. Denmark grinned at him, "sorry, Ice, but you should've asked me earlier, that you want me to carry you as well."

"Who said I want to?" Iceland hissed angrily. Denmark just laughed in return.

Sweden and Norway joined them outside a few minutes after, Norway giving each of them a square-shaped, reflecting black paper, to watch the eclipse through. "Otherwise, you'll become blind," he warned, standing next to Iceland.

"I can't see anything!" Denmark yawned aloud.

Norway rolled his eyes. "It's because it didn't start yet, idiot."

"Wait! I can see something!" Sealand exclaimed, looking through the paper, a huge smile plastered on his face.

"Yes, _now_ it's starting."

Egypt didn't even care to watch; he was too terrified to do anything, but hide behind Iceland, covering his face in the brown jacket; Iceland turned his face, at the moment he felt him doing so, and kept on looking at him confusingly, but soon returned to the eclipse. _How can they be so nonchalant about this_? He thought, his hands tightening their grip in Iceland's cloth – fortunately, the boy didn't seem to mind – when he tossed his head against the latter's back. _Even China thinks it's bad…_

For the first time in ages, the Nordics seemed _excited_: they were looking over the eclipse with obvious interest; Egypt would have been amazed, if he wasn't that anxious.

It was over after a while; Sealand clapped in enthusiasm, with Denmark soon joining him. Egypt released Iceland, who turned to him and mumbled, "you're okay?" Egypt nodded wearily and followed them inside.

"Anyone wants something to drink?" Norway suggested.

"I want beer!" Denmark exclaimed.

Norway rolled his eyes, looking at the rest questioningly.

"C'fee," Sweden said, passing his gaze over the others, who nodded in agreement. "I'll help you…" Iceland said and got up, going to the kitchen with Norway.

Denmark laid back, his hands on his nape, and put his legs on table, just as it was his'; Sweden shot at him dead glances, but he ignored.

Sealand was pouting; Egypt had no doubt, the boy was suffering by that awkward silence just as much as he, even if he wouldn't admit it. "Uncle Denmark," he said after a while, pulling Denmark's sleeve, "can you tell me a story?"

"Sure!" Denmark's eyes lit in excitement, as he turned to sit in front of him, his chest puffed in pride. "_There was once a little girl, so delicate and fair…_"

"D'nmark…"

"_But in summer, she always had to go barefoot, because she was poor, and in winter she wore wooden shoes, so her little insteps turned_[3]_ —_"

"_D'nmark_."

"What?" Denmark looked at Sweden innocently.

"_H'll käft'n_," Sweden hissed.

"Why?" Denmark blinked in confuse.

"Ah d'n't w'nt ye' t' corrup't th' kid."

"It's just a fairytale!" Denmark protested.

"Creat'd by ye'r s'ck m'nd," Sweden narrowed his eyes, obviously irritated.

Denmark frowned in insult, "are you trying to indicate something, Sverige?"

"Y's. Y'r s'ck."

"Take it back!"

"'t's true."

"It ain't!"

"Sa'd ye'."

"You piece of shit…" Denmark murmured angrily, in increasing annoyance, his face turning red gradually. In some way, Sweden seemed almost happy for his reaction. He got up, his fists held tight to his hips. "Sh't 'p."

Denmark got up himself, leaning forward a little, to Sweden, and grinned teasingly. "Make me."

All rage, Sweden threw a fist over Denmark's direction; expecting such response, Denmark slipped away on time and caught the latter's hand. Sweden grunted and threw his other fist to punch Denmark, but missed again; Denmark utilised his momentary unbalance, to throw him on ground. Sweden quickly grabbed his coat's brims and dragged him along to the floor, where they struggled a little more, until Norway separated them by a kick.

"I'm sorry," Norway muttered, shooting Denmark a threatening gaze as he put down the cups he was carrying with him, while the two men had gotten up carefully. He straightened up and looked at Egypt, who returned him a confused face. Norway tossed his head slightly, "They always fight like this…"

Egypt raised an eyebrow, "they do?"

"Excuse me?"

"Was _that_ a fight?"

Norway seemed helpless almost. "Y-yes…"

"If that's not a fight," Iceland interrupted, putting the other cups on table, "then, what a 'real' fight is?"

"…Hot weapon. Oh, this one is mine?" Egypt said naturally, taking the cup without waiting for respond. For long minutes, neither of the rest could do anything, but stare at him in a complete shock. Egypt glanced at them from his eye's angle, and shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink. It took them a while, to get out of this temporary shock.

_Westerners…_

Taking a sip from his glass of beer, Denmark said, "so… your relatives use hot weapon, when they fight?"

"Hot, cold… they aren't too choosy about this, as long as they know it causes damage," Egypt replied nonchalant. From his eye's corner, he noticed how Sweden, Norway and Iceland exchanged nervous gazes.

"That's suck," Denmark stated and smiled a little in slight anxiety.

"No one really cares much," Egypt replied honestly.

"You like them?"

They would have expected him to respond without thinking twice; but he _was_ thinking about this for a while, and even still seemed hesitated, when he did respond. "Yes," he said, his eyebrows shrunk in thoughts. "I like them. Yes."

"You like Turkey?"

Egypt nodded. "Yes."

Denmark smirked, "is he that good in bed?" he had barely finished the sentence, before Norway grabbed his tie and pulled it, chocking him. Being caught unguarded, and breathless, Denmark soon started to struggle for some air; Norway kept him like that for a minute, then released, frowning.

"N-Norge!" Denmark yawned between a few deep gasps for fresh air, "what was that for?"

"Watch your mouth, idiot," the younger murmured and turned to take his sit. It took Denmark a while more, to catch his breathe completely.

Egypt, however, doesn't seem to care the situation that just happened, nor Denmark's remark, the slightest. Moreover: he remained stoic, and when he noticed Denmark arranged himself, he said – in the same tone, he would go to the grocery store with –, "I'm afraid you misunderstood. Turkey and I aren't a real couple; we only claim so, so we can take a part of this show."

A quick glance to his left, proved him he was documented by the ever-so-willing filming-team. He immediately moved his face aside, causing the camera-guy to get up and move so he will get a full view of Egypt's face; the latter was trying to avoid this at first, until he gave up. The boom-man settled himself next to his partner, looking at Egypt eagerly. Egypt only sighed and rolled his eyes. _As if he thought, the Emirate's cameras invaded his privacy…_

"You cheated!" the boom-man exclaimed melodramatically.

"Maybe just a little…"

"You cheated!"

"It won't bring the end of the world."

"Cheater! Cheater!"

"It's not completely cheating, you know," Egypt raised an eyebrow. "It's not like this little show is to swap couples for intimacy or something, you know, it's meant to swap people from different backgrounds in order to expose them to different cultures and let them show some of their own. And in this rate, well, yes, you can say Turkey and I _are_ couple."

The filming-team remained speechless, causing Egypt to smirk.

"So you're just friends or a couple?" Denmark asked, confused.

"Couple for the show."

"Norway's m'wife," Denmark laughed aloud, as he took advantage of a moment when Norway stood right next to him, to take something from the table, to wrap his hands around the younger's waist and pull him closer, to sit on his lap. Norway hissed and cursed under his breathe, trying to get up and beat Denmark, who released him after a while, his laughter becomes wilder.

"Let's go outside," Norway suggested, turning to Egypt, "I'll show you around."

"Yes." Egypt got up.

"Can I join?" Denmark jumped in his sit.

"No," Norway shot him a hateful glare and turned back to Egypt, "come."

**x**

First thing he noticed, was how huge Norway's backyard was. He never saw anything like that: it seemed like an endless carpet of flora, ponds and the most amazing mountains, Egypt ever seen in his life; there were trees there, of almost every possible northern kind, spreading all over in their hundreds, their leaves are decorated by the deepest and liveliest hues of green, their shadows reflecting so beautifully on the clearest, bluest colour of the ponds. Egypt stopped breathing for long moments; this was beyond realisation.

He followed Norway deeper this remarkable landscape. Unlike his rather formal conducting at home, he seemed so comfortable and pleasant outside; Egypt couldn't miss the slight smile, that didn't leave his lips ever since they went there, and his almost sing-song tone, when he explained him about it.

They were walking there for some while, ignorant to the time that passes or the chilly air. They stopped next to a neat little fence, that bordered another – also huge, but not as astonishing as Norway's – garden.

"Egypt?"

Egypt almost jumped in his place, when he heard a familiar, sweet voice, carried from his back. He turned around, to see Russia smiling at him brightly and waving. Egypt smiled and waved back, approaching the other nation, who stood in the other side of the fence. "How good to see you, Russia!"

"What are you doing here, my little friend?" Russia asked in an honest bliss.[4]

"I'm taking a part of some international project, where I'm swapped with Finland for two weeks," Egypt explained. "I'm staying at Sweden's place, but we came to visit Norway."

Norway, who seemed even paler than usual, nodded. Russia nodded back, still smiling. He turned back then to Egypt, "sounds nice~"

"Yes."

"And who are these two?" Russia lifted his chin a little, pointing at the filming-team, who unsuccessfully hide behind a large tree. Egypt looked at them, a wicked smirk sneaking to his face.

"They?" he asked, his smile getting even wider as he turned back to Russia, "they are filming us, for this show. Hey, you," he turned to the filming-team once again, waving them to get closer. The two men looked at each other in slight confuse, before they got up from their hide and hesitantly approached.

"Please, meet a good friend of mine," Egypt said, gesturing to Russia, "Ivan."

"It's so nice to meet you~" Russia gave them one of his sweetest childish smiles; they couldn't help, but smile a little themselves. "Would you like to come over?"

"I'd love to, but it's getting a little late, I'm afraid…" Egypt said, pretending to check his wristwatch.

There was somewhat a touching sadness in Russia's innocent face. "I see…" he mumbled in such softness, even Egypt never heard before. "I wanted to show you my sunflowers," he added, a sad smile appears on his lips' angles, "they bloom so beautifully this summer…"

"Are they?" Egypt asked as smiled softly to Russia, who just nodded.

"Hey," Egypt turned to the filming-team, "why won't _you_ go there and take some shots? You know, Ivan's garden is very appealing…"

Russia's violet eyes widened, as a soft smile crossed his face. "Would you come over?" he asked hopefully. "I've heard, there are a few more places in Kolyma[5], so I can take you there~"

The men exchanged looks in a slight worry, then at Egypt. "I guess, it can't hurt anyone, can it?" the camera-guy, looking back at his partner, shrugged. The boom-man nodded in agree and they both looked back at Egypt.

Norway, who measured the situation, interrupted. "I'll get you back to Berwald, as soon as you'll return," he said.

"Alright then," the camera-guy shrugged again and passed over the fence, that separated the two backyards, the boom-man soon following him, and they both joined Russia, who waved over Egypt to farewell before he started getting back to his home.

From afar, they could hear what sounded like "_kolkolkol…_"

"Let's get back," Norway said nonchalant, like nothing was happening.

Egypt nodded. "Thank you so much, for showing me around."

"My pleasure."

_-Fin-_

A special thank you **Elise** and **Emma**, who helped me a lot writing this chapter with their brilliant explanation about the Norwegian landscape and some traditions

There really going to be a solar eclipse in Norway – on the 1st of August this year, which is also the time of the year when the plot of this fic is taking place.

_Hål käften_ – shut it (Swedish)

[1] Lefse – some Norwegian flatbread, that is served as a cake, usually with coffee.

[2] Ra is the ancient Egyptian sun God and the major deity in ancient Egyptian pantheon. It is said to have two solar boats, that took him to a journey across the world – what represents the sunlight rebirth every morning. According to the myth, the boats are kept by two other Gods (I forgot their names), and whenever they fail doing their job, it's represented as a sun eclipse.

[3] Quotation from _The Red Shoes_, by H. C. Andersen

[4] Russia and the Middle Eastern Arabian countries, have quite an excellent relationship, that started during the Cold War, when they were supported by the Soviet Union.

[5] Kolyma (колыма) used to be one, if not the worse labour camp (Gulag) in Soviet Union.


	9. Day 4: Finland's POV

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 4 - FINLAND'S POV**

If to tell by the light that filled his room despite the heavy curtains, Finland suggested it was a late hour. He hurried to get up – he wasn't used, to spend the entire day in bed – and to arrange himself.

He couldn't help but emit a shriek, when he opened the bathroom's door, just to discover there was someone in there. "I-I'm sorry," he mumbled, his cheeks heating in embarrassment as he bent his head to the floor. There was a silence of a few, awkward minutes; when Finland dared to lift his face, he saw Palestine standing on the threshold and looking at him in an amused confuse, a toothbrush in her mouth.

"Ye' ca' geh ih," she said without pulling the toothbrush out and returned to the sink, not waiting for an answer. Finland just stared at her and blinked at start, before he stood next to her and searched his own toothbrush. It took him a moment to realise, it was in Palestine's mouth.

"P-Palestine?" he asked hesitantly, gulping when she turned her face to him. "I-I think it's m-my toothbrush…"

"Ah," Palestine pulled it out her mouth, looking at it. "Yes, probably. You don't mind, do you?"

"N-no…" he sighed.

"Good." She continued brushing her teeth for a while, with Finland just standing next to her. She spitted and landed the brush to Finland. "Y-you can keep it," Finland mumbled again. "I'm sterile," he added, noticing the way Palestine was staring at him.

"Ah…" she nodded, putting the brush back in its place. "I'm pretty sure, Turkey keeps some extra ones somewhere…" she started picking in the many drawers, until she found a toothbrush, which its packing wasn't even opened yet.

Finland hesitated. "Turkey wouldn't mind?"

"Neh, he keeps this for cases like you," she smirked, as he opened the packing, and kept on standing next to him while be brushed his own teeth, pulling off her kaffiya to occupy with her hair.

Finland watched her reflection in mirror. Her hair was dark auburn and her wild curls framed her face like a royal-like mane. She frowned at her pity attempt to smooth it a little, before she gathered it and put her kaffiya around her face again.

Finland spitted the remains of the toothpaste into the sink and followed Palestine outside.

Turkey paled, when he saw Palestine, who grinned from ear to ear. "Hello there," she said, her grin getting wider.

"How did you get in?" he mumbled.

"Through the front door. Really; no tunnels," she added, noticing Turkey's scepticism, now smiling innocently. "Is this a face of a liar?"

"Israel knows, you're here?"

"She told me, to get the fuck off her face," Palestine shrugged, now sticking out her lower lip, looking at Finland. "How cruel of her, isn't it?" she asked in a sweet voice. Finland gulped, just when Turkey laughed anxiety, "alright then. Let's go to the kitchen, I just made baklavas."

Palestine hurried to kitchen, where Cyprus was already eating some salad with rather suffered face. "Smile, kid! It's fresh vegetables, it's healthy!" Turkey exclaimed, waving to his child, who just frowned. Turkey sent a quick glare to Finland, before he returned his face to the kid and said, "you'll get a candy afterwards."

Smiling at once, Cyprus almost swallowed every bite he took.

"There are more to come," Turkey said as he handed them a plate, "feel free to take as much as you want."

"I'll… go make myself some salad…" Finland mumbled, following Turkey to the kitchen, where the man put some finjan on boil and started making another round of baklavas, while Finland pulled out some vegetables, washed them and started cutting them. From his eye's corner, Finland saw Turkey smirking, but saying nothing.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing, nothing…" Turkey laughed awkwardly. "The way you make salad is quite different than the way we make it, but it's kind of cute. That's all."

Finland blushed a little, yet, said nothing himself. "Try to put some olive oil in it," Turkey suggested, handing him the bottle, "it's pretty good."

Finland hesitated. He still had a spicy taste in his mouth, as a remaining of the last time he was suggested to try something, though this time, it really seemed like an innocent olive oil. He took it, mumbling a silent "thank you" and poured a little bit of it into his salad, mixing it. "You can go eat now, I won't be offended," Turkey stated with a smile when he noticed the younger's hesitation. Finland nodded and approached to sit along with Cyprus – who already cleaned his plate – and Palestine, both almost finishing the baklavas.

They weren't seem too fond of each other, Finland noticed: they didn't spoke despite the fact they were sitting next to each other, neither seemed to try to have any sort of integration between themselves.[1] Finland watched them from his eye's corner, while eating his salad (that olive oil was indeed quite good, he admitted), wondering whether he should start a conversation with them, when the front door was open, carrying somewhat a spine-tingling aura from outside.

It felt as the world was freezing, when he saw a figure filling the threshold.

It was quite a small man – Finland assumed, he was even smaller than himself – with a tousled, mussed black hair, a twisted curl on its left side, and black eyes framed by dark circles, sore by seemed as tiredness, his over-sized gray T and brown pants dull and wrinkled, torn slippers to his feet.

He was unstable; Finland immediately noticed it, by the way his eyes frantic, the irrational way his body moved. This guy terrified him.

To judge by the other's reacts, he wasn't the only one to feel so: Cyprus paled and dropped the fork he held, his breathe stops; Palestine's eyes were shut open, as her body started to tremble; even Turkey paled and gulped, when his eyes connected the other's.

A few minutes passed. For Finland, each of them stretched like an entire lifetime; as much as that guy stood there and just stared at them, without saying or doing anything, was as much as Finland's worry for his life increased. He felt, as he is about to faint, when the guy opened his mouth to speak.

"Kuwait's here?" he growled.

His voice was relatively quite, though there was something in it – Finland couldn't put his finger on what exactly – which he found as threatening. It effected the others, too, as their bodies shook by a sudden wave of shivering.

Turkey was the first to regain his compose. "No."

"Where?"

"At Japan's."

"_Ilkalb_…" the guy hissed under his breathe, frowning his already pissed face.

"When will you stop stalking her, Iraq? She doesn't like it," Turkey frowned himself a little.

"She's _mine_[2]," Iraq barked it so fiercely, everyone seemed as someone slapped them with a whip.

"No, Iraq, Kuwait is independent and has the right of an own will," Turkey snapped back, couldn't help but gulp and retreat a step or two when his eyes connected Iraq's once again.

"_Mine_."

Turkey's panted.

Finland wished he could tell, what was with that rather small man, that terrified him so. He beat the twice larger _Russia_, for God's sake, and now he shivers like a 5-years-old just by hearing Iraq's voice. Maybe there was something with this assurance of his – he couldn't tell. Finland felt chillness slides over his spine.

"Why won't you go home, Iraq?" Turkey himself seemed shock after saying these things. He blinked, horrified, then hurried to toss his head and say, "I-I mean… go home, take a good shower, before Kuwait com –"

The front door was opening by a kick and soon Israel stormed into the kitchen, ignoring Iraq, her face almost glowing in excitement.

"You won't believe it!" she exclaimed, almost hopping in her place, "I just got on something!"

"What?" Turkey asked, clearly relieved by the change of topic.

"I was visiting America, right? So, we found ourselves speaking about appendix, and then I thought – why not pulling it out, through an already existing hole, instead of a surgery?"

Turkey grinned amusingly, "you mean, the butt hole?"

"Better!" she paused a few minutes for the dramatic effect, her grin widening. "The _mouth_."

No one said a word for some moments, until Turkey couldn't hold it for much longer and burst out in a wild laughter; Cyprus giggled, while Palestine rolled her eyes, and Finland led out a small, anxious smile; Iraq hissed something, but no one seemed to care much about him. Israel giggled herself for a while, doesn't seem insulted the slightest. "I was serious," she said, still smiling. "I had a theory – you see, if you use an already existing entrance, you don't have to open a new one; by that, you make the minimum exterior invasion into one's body, means the least damage and the fastest recovery."

"Through the _mouth_," Turkey raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

Israel nodded. "We checked it. It actually works."

"Y-you _checked_ it?" Finland interrupted, almost screaming it.

Israel nodded again, a bit surprised by his react. "The results were even better than we expected," she added, "the patient we were trying this on, was in such a brilliant condition, we led him go after a day or two. I'm assure that soon enough, we'll start an era of surgeries, where we'll just blur the patient, and release them back home after a few hours![3]"

Turkey smirked, "by pulling people's organs through the _mouth_."

"Exactly."

Finland was impressed. The girl's sayings, made him feel as he was misjudging her while being completely ignorant about her. _Perhaps she isn't that bad, as anyone presenting her_?

"It's even easier than it sounds," Israel kept on talking to Turkey mostly, "I can demonstrate you." She paused, turning to Palestine with a sweet smile, "weren't _you_ complaining about your appendix, dear cousin?" she asked softly.

Palestine frowned. "What do you want?"

"I can pull it out, and on same time show them how this surgery works."

"Ah-ha!" Palestine exclaimed, pointing at Israel before she turned to Finland, "heard that? She's trying to pull out my organs!"

Israel rolled her eyes, "it's not like you need your appendix, anyway. It's a useless organ!"

"You're listening?" Palestine ignored it. "Here's the proof, she's really trying to trade my organs!"

Israel frowned, "who the hell would ever like to get a used useless organ, especially one which used to be _yours'_?"

"You get pretty good money for my organs, don't you?" Palestine, who stood behind Finland's back for protection, yelled.

"You wouldn't be alive to tell, I'm trading your organs, if I was really doing it, you know!" without any warning, Israel's head was fiercely pulled left, wringing a sharp scream from the girl. "Tourette syndrome," Turkey mumbled to his ear.

"Finland!" Palestine carried sad and innocent eyes to Finland, putting her both hands on his shoulders, "you don't believe that bitch, do you?…"

"Palestine, that's enough," Turkey sighed.

"She's gonna _kill_ me!" Palestine let go a shriek.

"I-I'm not!" Israel seemed almost in tears.

"She won't touch you, Palestine," Turkey said.

"Yeah, right!"

"Fine," Israel narrowed her eyes, a sarcastic smirk appears on her face. "We'll see about that next time, you'd ask _me_ for aid."

Palestine gulped. Israel widened her now almost maniacally grin, petting Finland's shoulder on her way out.

Palestine was as pale as a ghost. "Y-you heard that?" she turned to Turkey.

"Yes. You asked for that."

"No, I didn –"

"Oh, come on," Turkey cut her, waving his hand scornfully, "even Finland can tell, you teased her from the beginning. Right, Finni?"

Surprised by the sudden turning, Finland just smiled awkwardly and said nothing.

"You're still here?" Turkey, who seemed to gain some confidence, turned to Iraq, who returned him rather a homicidal gaze. "I-I mean," Turkey paled, "you aren't getting back home, to take a shower or something before Kuwait arrives?

Iraq stared at him for long minutes; his face was still furious, but Finland could swear he saw spark of psychedelic pleasure in the smaller's eyes, to Turkey's anxious. Eventually, he growled and dawdled out.

Turkey, Palestine and the almost-fainting Cyprus led go a deep sigh.

"Iraq," Turkey explained, trying to smile a little to the seemingly traumatised Finland. "You better stay far from him, he's …" Turkey encircled his finger on his temple, "…psycho, you know. A dangerous psycho, unlike Yemen, which is also a psycho but pretty nice dude actually… at least when he does something else than just sitting under his tree and chew khat."

"A-ah…"

"Ah. It's your turn to cook today," Finland was amazed by the nonchalant in Turkey's speech.

"Sure it's necessary, baba?" Cyprus interrupted.

Turkey thought about this. "Yes… you're right. Forget about that, Finni, the Emirates would probably bring something."

"O-okay…"

"Don't you think, we should clean the house, baba?"

"M-Morocco had done this two days ago, w-wasn't she?" Finland mumbled hesitantly, cheeks heating when all eyes were hung on him.

"My sisters are picky," Palestine interrupted.

"Y-your sisters?"

"Half-sisters, to be exact," Palestine responded, frowning. "The Emirates and Kuwait. They can get all freaked to the slightest dirt," she rolled her eyes.

Turkey opened the kitchen window, peeking his head out. "Hey! Syria!"

Within seconds, Syria's voice was carried from outside. "Wha'?"

"Come over, I've got some baklavas."

Turkey closed the window and returned to sit between Cyprus and Finland, Palestine soon joining to sit with them. In a matter of a few more minutes, Syria got inside, dragging Lebanon along.

"Go make us some coffee," he demanded Lebanon, while taking his sit. "You better hurry, I don't think these baklavas will be for too long."

"Make tea for Finland and the kids," Turkey added, smirking from ear to ear when Lebanon turned his back to them and started boiling waters, cursing under his breathe. "Keep these dirty words to bed!" Syria laughed aloud; even though they couldn't see his face, Finland knew Lebanon must have been blushing like a mad by now.

"Here," Lebanon muttered, almost hurling the tray on table, eyes narrowed in hate.

"Thank you, tulip," Turkey smirked, petting the younger's ass lightly, laughing when Lebanon jumped asides in a quirk scream; Syria sneaked his hand under Lebanon's tunic, causing him to freeze in his place, eyes and mouth open wide, trembling. Syria laughed aloud again, removing his hand after Lebanon emitted a moan. "If you're already standing, Lebanon," Turkey said, amused, "why won't you clean around a little? Kuwait and the Emirates are returning today."

"Yeah, don't be such a selfish bitch," Syria added, before the poor little guy could protest. "Fine!" he yelled angrily and went out, to bring some cleaning tools.

Everyone but Finland was laughing.

"W-why are you treating him like that?" he exclaimed, agitated.

"Because he never really protests," Cyprus – much to Finland's surprise – responded. "If he really wanted others to stop bullying him, he's old enough to just say it."

"He's just one against you all!" Finland protested.

Lebanon returned meanwhile and started cleaning the kitchen in frowned face. Syria – his face are a bit softening in guilt to Finland's saying – tried to touch Lebanon's arm, but he shook it off and resumed cleaning, now moving to the living room. "He just likes playing hard to get, when he's pissed," Syria explained. "These baklavas are excellent, _ya Turk_. What did you put in them?"

"The usual things, just accidentally spilled more sugar than necessary."

"_Ya allah…_"

Lebanon returned after a few minutes, his eyes all red in anger. "I'm done," he tightened his teeth and forced himself a smile.

"Good. Make me another glass of coffee, without sugar this time," Syria said, laid back on his backrest. Lebanon grabbed his glass forcefully than needed and turned to the marble.

Finland got up and put a hand on the younger's shoulder. "I'll make it," he said, smiling at him empathically. Lebanon looked at him in disbelief at start, then with a thankful gaze, before taking a sit next to Syria, who's his eyes widened in shock. "Here you go," Finland said, placing a glass of coffee in front of Syria; the latter barely managed to mumble "thanks".

Finland got back to sit, returning to his own drink.

Iran got in and quietly took a sit. He seemed fine, accept his moves were slow and careful and his expression shocked. Palestine was the only one to wave him for greeting; the rest, it seems, were trying to ignore him. "I wouldn't mind some tea," he said after a while in a weak voice.

"You heard the guy," Syria said, nudging Lebanon. "Now go get him."

"He can go make himse –"

"_Now_."

"Y-yes," Lebanon gulped and hurried to make Iran a drink.

"What got in _you_?" Syria now turned to Iran, raising an eyebrow.

"Iraq."

Everyone looked at Iran, doubt-in shock doubt-in mercy, saying nothing until Lebanon got back with the tea. Iran grabbed it with shaky hands, drinking it slowly.

Cyprus crossed his hands on table, bending forward him. "Was it hard, Iran?"

"Shut up, kid."

Chatty voices were carried from the garden, and soon two girls entered the house. They were roughly around the age of Palestine – the shorter has a silky, short Eastern black hair and a fairly tanned skin, her face half-covered by gigantic sunglasses and a pink scarf around her neck, the other a bit brighter than her and had brown hair covered by blue kerchief, also wearing huge sunglasses; both were dressed in invested Western clothes, their hands full of colourful bags; the shorter was playing with her iPhone. They kept on chatting in what Finland assumed as a mixure of Arabic and English.

"Hi!" the younger lifted her face from her iPhone and smiled broadly, both approaching to hug and kiss everyone.

"Who's this cutey?" the younger – barely reaching his chin – pulled off her sunglasses to eye him better. Her face shape was Eastern, but her eyes Western and green.[4]

"I-I'm Finland," he gulped. "E-Egypt and I w-were swapped for s-some programme…"

"You mean, like, 'Wife Swap'?"

Finland nodded.

"Cool!" the girl exclaimed, "I'm the United Arab Emirates." She pulled out her iPhone, playing with it in nimble fingers. "You have facebook?"

"E-excuse me?"

"Never mind," she waved her hand, "I found you. I'm sending you a friend request."

"O-okay…"

"Oh my God, Kuwait!" the Emirates emitted an excited shriek, moving her hand a little so the other girl could also see the screen. They both giggled, with Kuwait adding, "what he was thinking to himself?"

"Who?" Palestine interrupted, trying to peek behind her apparently half-sisters' back. Looking behind her shoulder, Kuwait moved aside so Palestine could also see. "America," the Emirates said, giggling. "Kuwait and I are married in facebook now, so we were remarked 'like' and posted hearts to each other. America was all like, 'congratulations!' and stuff, so I, like, wrote him 'thanks' with a smiley in return so now he wrote me, 'you can come over my place for your honeymoon' with a wink."

The two giggled once more; Palestine rolled her eyes and retreated.

"How was your flight?" Turkey interrupted.

"We slept through it all," Kuwait said, "though we got stuck in the airport."

"Don't remind me!" the Emirates got into her speech, sighing dramatically. "They just stuck us there for _hours_! My passport was checked twice at least!"

"The people in the check point were so rude!" Kuwait added, "they thought, we were _spies_! Would you believe that?"

"We were waiting in line for so long, and they didn't even offer us to sit!" the Emirates exclaimed. "I almost _fainted_!"

"I'm sure, that's for a good cause…" Turkey smiled at them a little.

"Whatever it is, it was terrible," the Emirates, waving over her face with her hand, as to prove she was still riled up, sighed. "I needed something rich, to get over this trauma, so we brought Sushi and caviar."

They started unpacking their bags, loading the large kitchen table with delicacies. Once they have done, Turkey indicated Kuwait to approach. He put a supportive hand on her shoulder, petting it lightly. "Be careful. Iraq was here, looking for you."

She covered her mouth dramatically, eyes are widening in horror.

"Khat!"

Yemen entered the house, waving a greeny leaf; Oman rushed after him, almost tearing, "f-father…"

"Uncle!" the Emirates exclaimed and turned to greet Yemen, who put the leaf in his mouth and started chewing it. He put a hand on her shoulder, while she was hugging him, "don't worry, little girl, I've got khat for you."

"Oman!" Kuwait exclaimed and approached to greet the despondent guy. He smiled at her weakly and bent to hug and kiss her. Just when his lips touched her cheek, some dim figure has jumped on him from behind, knocking him to floor. Oman shrilled, when Iraq was sitting on his back, pinning his hands forcefully to ground, barking, "_mine_!"

Kuwait screamed in horror and paled, when Iraq was looking directly at her, grinding his teeth as he was smiling at her. She has helplessly looked around – a desperate hope for aid – before Iraq got up and grabbed her hand tight in one, quick move, pulling her closer. She shrieked and gulped when he wrapped a hand around her waist possessively, but started to struggle when he turned her to face him with another hand slipped to her back and bent to kiss her; she managed to push his face away, but was still trapped in his grasp. "L-let me go, Iraq!" she cried.

"_Mine_."

"No!"

He stared at her. Kuwait gasped, cold sweat accumulated on her temples, and stopped resisting. Iraq now turned to hug her from behind, resting his head on the crook of her shoulder. Finland noticed, she was violently shaking. He felt as his heart is with her.

"She asked you, to let her go," Finland hissed. Everyone stopped their breath, when Finland didn't move a millimetre as he was looking straight into Iraq's eyes; actually, they seemed just as terrified of Finland's suddenly harsh tone and aloof compose. "So," he grinded his own teeth to Iraq, "let her go." Iraq, who returned him a disturbed gaze with big, roundish eyes, and a slight opened mouth. It took him another moment, to release Kuwait completely and to slowly retreat, until he got out.

Finland fainted.

When he was back to conscious, he saw Kuwait looking at him worryingly.

He smiled cheerfully. "Are you alright?" he asked her kindly. The girl – who held her hands as a prayer – inhaled and nodded, smiling slightly in relief. "Thank you so much, Finland," she widened at smile, "you truly are a hero."

Finland blushed, "n-no… I… I just tried to help," he smiled awkwardly.

"You wanna go visit my house?" she suggested, offering her hand to help him get up.

"I-it's really kind of you, b-but…"

She giggled, "you don't have to be so shy. C'mon, honey."

_A girl who is even younger than Iceland, just called me 'honey'…_

He assumed, he was completely red by the moment Kuwait took his arm. She giggled again, "it will totally be a bunch of fun! I've got, like, _tones_ of video games and other cool stuff…"

Iran snorted aloud, to get her attention. "Suit yourself, woman," he sneered. Kuwait hung her face on him scornfully before turning back to Finland, "ignore him, he's totally primitive…"

"I-I'm not!"

Kuwait pulled her tongue out.

"Khat!"

"F-father! C-calm down…" Oman mumbled helplessly, seeing his father standing up all by sudden and waving a leaf, he soon stuck in his mouth and started to chew. "How's this pretty face?" he asked, looking at Finland.

"It's Finland, father. You already met him." Oman sighed.

"I did?"

"Yes, father. He has been around since Tuesday."

"Why did none of you tell me? I would've been making henna!"

"Henna for _what_, father?"

"For the wedding!"

"I'm a _guy_, Yemen!" Lebanon exclaimed in despair, "Syria and I are _not_ getting married!"

"I told you to tame her, didn't I?" Yemen rebuked Syria, who looked at him with a huge grin and nodded in agreement, "she always say, she's too shy for a wedding. I wasn't talking about you, anyway," Yemen now turned to look at Lebanon, then indicated at Finland, "I was talking about him."

Finland blushed again, "w-we aren't getting married e-either…"

"Ah, got it! I give you my permission, Kuwait, he seem like a good guy."

"A-actually, I'm already married…" Finland felt his neck burning in embarrassment.

"Yes, of course you've sheared yourself!"

"He said, he's already _married_, father."

"I'm not deaf, _ya ibni_! I heard him saying, he's sheared, on the first time!"

"Oh my God!"

Everyone turned their faces to the Emirates, whose her sudden, panicked scream made them all jump in their place. The girl seemed nearby to faint. "Stop everything!" she screamed, "it's an emergency!"

"What happened?" Turkey cried and rushed to her.

"My produce!" she yelled, waving at her face with one hand for some air, "my produce is withering!"

"What?"

"My produce!" she waved her iPhone in front of Turkey's face, "you see? Everything's withering! It's a disaster!"

Turkey took a deep breathe, "Emirates… don't scare us like that, please. It's just a virtual game."

"You wouldn't say that, if you were trying it yourself, Turkey," the Emirates narrowed her eyes.

Turkey was just about to respond, when he eyed something from the front door, and paled. Finland turned his own face to the door, seeing Armenia standing there with crossed arms, looking at them bitterly. "Your girlfriend ain't here, now go away!" Turkey screamed, half-hiding behind Finland. "You're ruining my life!"

"Like you didn't ruined mine first," Armenia rolled his eyes, then returned to fix them on Turkey's. "Anyway, America told me to tell you, that we should try to resettle our relations, after everything you have done to me." Armenia narrowed his eyes.

"You didn't have to agree, you know!"

"Are you… disturbed?"

"Yes!"

"Then I'm staying." Armenia slipped into a nearby coach demandingly.

This was all too much to bear, Finland realised. The screams, the tumult, the suffocating atmosphere… it was way too much.

"Enough! I'm sick of it!" Finland exclaimed, shutting his eyes tight and holding his head with his two hands. "I can't take it anymore!" he screamed and rushed to his room, shutting the door behind him.

_-Fin-_

_Ilkalb_ – that dog (Arabic)

_Ya allah_ – Good Heavens (Arabic)

[1] One of the demands for independence, of Northern Cyprus, is being identified as Turkish territory (hence, it's _Turkish _Republic of Northern Cyprus); correspondingly, according to the canon at least, Cyprus is a bit hostile to other small nations, who self-proclaim for independence.

[2] Iraq has a history of invasions to Kuwait and declaring it as an Iraqi territory; last occupation ended in 1991, after the First Gulf War (lasted 7 months).

[3] It's actually true: the first surgery when a man's appendix was pulled out through the mouth took a place on 2008, in San Diego; the surgeons were Americans and Israelis.

[4] Only 20% of the population, of the United Arab Emirates, is native; the rest is mostly Southeast Asian, Indian and even Western (mostly British).


	10. Day 4: Egypt's POV

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 4 – EGYPT'S POV**

05.00. He opened his eyes exactly on the moment, when the number changed. He felt somewhat pride about this – to open his eyes on the exact moment when the hour is changing.

A minute or two later, he realised how stupid it is.

There was a strong smell of something dead, standing still in the air. It seemed to get thicker with every movement of his body, but he tried to not think about _that_. He got up, almost fainting because of that smell. _Sleeping in the suitcase isn't that bad_, he thought, feeling so full of life compared to the first two nights. Accept for that smell in the air. It was inhuman.

He stretched, then took the blanket he was using by on his first morning there and spread it on floor. Last time, he was placing it on the wrong direction – he knew it just now, when he was acclimated enough in this surrounding to tell where southwest exactly is.

He kneeled and prayed, shutting his eyes tight each time when his forehead touched the ground. _Allah… make the Global Warming effect on this place_.

He got up slowly and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. _Can it be, it only gets colder in this place? It's August, for God's sake!_

He drawled to the kitchen, putting waters on boil in his overused finjan. He noticed, while putting in the coffee, that deadly smell got even stronger in kitchen. It was still dark and he got not much of patience, to turn on the light, so he couldn't see anything abnormal there.

_If not counting that smell._

Egypt took his glass of coffee and turned to sit next to the dinning table. He felt his feet walks over something squishy, but preferred not to pay much attention to it. He drank slowly, making sure to keep his nose the closest to the glass' edge and let the aroma fill his nostrils.

_An aroma of coffee and a rotten body._

Sweden entered the kitchen around six. He hair was still unkempt from the night and he was wiping his face with one hand, the second is holding his glasses, which he later cleaned with his shirt.

He said nothing for long minutes, before he twisted his nose, and asked, "what's th't sm'll?"

Egypt shrugged.

There was a silence for some more minutes, before Sweden's eyes were flashed open and, uncharacteristically, he called, "H-H'na-T'mago!"

He rushed to open the light. Now, Egypt noticed Sweden was completely pale and shivered; on floor, there was a white and black dough of what probably used to be one of Hana-Tamago's toys.

Soon enough, barks were carried from the living room parallel to the silent sound of a mincing walk crossed it in sprint, and the dog almost crushed on her owner's feet while she stormed in enthusiastically. Sweden sighed aloud in relief and bent to pick the dog in his hands, pulling her close to his lap.

A few more minutes of awkward silence had passed, before Sweden broke it.

"Eg'pt?"

"Wha'?"

"…Wh'n did ye' tak' ah sh'wer f'r th' last tim'?"

The both of them turned completely red.

"Four days ago," Egypt admitted after a short pause.

"Why?"

"I was too cold."

Without saying anything, Sweden got out of the kitchen, still holding the dog in his lap. He returned after a several minutes, trying to keep his face as much stoic as possible. "Ah t'rned 'n th' b'il, ye'd hav' w'rm wat'r 'n ten min'tes."

Egypt nodded.

They kept on sitting in silence for the past ten minutes. Meanwhile, Sweden prepared himself a cup of _instant_ coffee; Egypt held himself hard, not to say anything about that.

"Ah th'nk it's r'dy," Sweden said within ten minutes, while reading the newspaper nonchalant. Egypt nodded and got up, heading to take clean clothes from his room before he got into the bathroom.

It was bigger than he expected, but very neat – the walls were painted by delicate greyish-white colour and a modern pattern of straight lines – one crossing the wall horizontal and the rest, randomly placed, crossing it perpendicular – of different hues of blue, the floor entwined by pearl-like tiles dotted by tiny triangles of baby-blue, right on the connecting spots in the corners of every tile, and next to the pretty large shower – two and half metres on three, surrounded by a silky milk glass – there was a huge Jacuzzi, made of white marble. Even Turkey's bathroom, was nothing like this. Egypt tried not to think of why Sweden and Finland needed so much space.

A pile of clean towels, was arranged on a simple wooden chair, next to the shower. Egypt moved them to the backrest, to put his clean clothes on, then took a deep breathe and undressed.

What felt like a warm air at start, was freezing; exactly the reason why he was trying to avoid this for the first moments. He panted and couldn't help a stretched moan, caused by the sudden chill that shrunk his defenceless body.

Egypt hopped into the shower and switched the tap, on what he thought as the hot water.

He could swear, he was hit by pieces of ice. He found himself screaming irrationally and moaning in pain, for the seconds – each felt like an entire lifetime – that passed, between these freezing waters touched his poor skin, to the moment he had managed to turn them off. He couldn't remember when exactly he sat in the corner of the shower, where the floor wasn't covered by this cluster of tiny icicles, folding his legs to his chest and trembling, moving back and forth with his teeth clack.

Only now, sitting that way, he noticed how _stink_ he is; that was the only thing, that gave him the push to get up and let the shower one, last chance.

He took a deep breathe again, before he twisted the tap one last time, this time on the opposite direction, and retreated a moment before the first drops touched his skin. He sighed in relief, resting against the shower's door and took a few more breathes, before he dared to stretch his hand forward and let the drops touch the edge of his fingers. Feeling nothing much – and after another deep breathe – he put his palm entirely under the flow. Chilly, but tolerable. He filled his lungs with air and got under the waters.

Fortunately, they kept on being tolerable for as much as his shower took; he even allowed himself to take his time to wash his hair and soap himself, before he got out the shower and covered himself with the towels Sweden had left for him. It wasn't too helping, but still better than being naked.

He rushed to get dressed, still wrapping the dry towels around his shoulders for warmth.

He headed back to kitchen. Sealand was sitting there, drinking some milk. He pouted a little when he saw Egypt, but waved back when he greeted him. He also couldn't help but giggle, when he noticed that Egypt was wrapped by towels.

"Aft'r ye'll f'nish w'th t'day's less'ns," Sweden asked, "ye'd m'nd g' mak' th' groc'ry?"

"Can I join?" Sealand jumped on his sit.

"Yeah."

"Yay!" Sealand exclaimed and jumped back to sit.

Sweden paused on the threshold, as he is about to go somewhere. He cleared his throat and fixed his tie, "Ah'm goin' t' th' N'rdic Counc'le," he said, blushing slightly. "Us'ally, F'nl'nd com's 'long, b't…" he blushed even harder.

Egypt nodded.

"_Färv'l_…"

"Say 'hello' to everyone!" Sealand exclaimed, again jumping on his sit. Sweden nodded and waved them for goodbye, before he went out. Then, Sealand turned his face to Egypt and pouted. "I'm angry at you," he said.

Egypt raised an eyebrow in confuse.

"You didn't tell me the second part of the story, you started telling me two nights ago, like you promised."

"You're right." Egypt narrowed his eyes in thought, and then smirked slyly. Sealand looked at him in slight confuse. "Considering that it's, after all, an Arabian tale…" his smirk widened a little, "I can tell you the rest now, and it _could_ be regarded as a both literature and geography lesson, right?"

Sealand smiled in an consult secretly, his own smile getting wider in every passing moment. Egypt liked that boy: he truly is a good kid with great soul and sensitivity, but has this slight – sleepy perhaps, but still – tendency of mischievous. Egypt didn't even feel bad, for ruining him like that.

"You're okay, England's brother."

Sealand puffed his chest in pride.

"You remember, when we stopped last time?"

Sealand nodded, "when the nomad, Sheikh and Fakir said, they'll be waiting with the poor merchant to morning, and then decided to help him."

"Right." Egypt cleared his throat, "the night before his execution, was the longest night of the merchant's life; knowing, there's no use to rehabilitate his deed, or beg for forgiveness, the only thing left to the merchant were the tears that fall, while he was crying for his pity fate.

"Dawn arrived, and so the Jinni, ready to take the merchant life. The merchant knew, there is no use to cry for any longer, so he started taking his prayes. And just when the Jinni, was taking him, the Sheikh stood up.

"_Ya Jinni_, he called, standing there with his all might, _will you agree, to give me third of the merchant's life, if I will tell you a fascinating story, about my doe?_

"_If your story, will satisfy me_, the Jinni replied, _I will_.

"_This doe_, the Sheikh begun, _is my cousin of my father's side, who has been my wife and whom I was married to, for 30 years. However, she didn't deliver any children, so I took a mistress, who delivered me a beautiful baby boy, I loved wholeheartedly._

"_When my beloved boy, reached the age of 15,_ he said, _I went to another city, for business. My wife – the boy's step-mother – was a witch, ever since she was a little girl; she casted a spell on my boy, turning him calf, and also casted a spell on my mistress – the boy's mother – turning her cow, and gave them both to the shepherd_.

"_When I got back home, I asked my wife where my boy and mistress are, and she wife told me, the mistress died and the boy ran away, and she doesn't know where he is_.

"_I sat a whole year_, the Sheikh said told them, _with my heart sad and my eye tear, until the Eid al-Adha_[1]_ arrived_.

"_Then, I told the shepherd, to give me a fat cow; the cow he chose for me, was my mistress whom my wife turned cow. When I was about to slaughter her, the cow started screaming and crying so hard, I led her go and ordered the shepherd, to slaughter her for me instead, since I couldn't do it myself; but when she was slaughtered, we found neither fat or meat – only skin and bones. I regretted my order, which I couldn't stand, so I asked the shepherd, to give me a calf instead_.

"_The calf, the shepherd chose, was my enchanted son; he broke the collar that tied him and cried, and I felt such mercy for the poor animal, I ordered the shepherd to give me a cow_. Now, come on, let's go."

"W-wait!" Sealand shrieked, all panic, "that's all!"

"Yes."

"B-but, you can't just stop here!"

"Well, I can." His lip's angles twisted to a slight smile, when he added, "I don't want you to expel me, after all."

Sealand nodded and managed to smile a little.

"You invented these stories, all by yourself?" he asked after a little paused, while Egypt was wearing his light coat.

"No; my brother, Yemen, wrote them."

Sealand seemed confuse. "I thought, you have only one sister…"

Egypt sighed deeply. "I do have only one, full sister," he said, "that's Palestine. But I also have some other, half-siblings. One of them, Yemen, is the one who invented those stories."

"He's nice?"

"When he does anything else than just sitting under that tree of his and chewing Khat, yes, he's nice. A bit twisted, maybe, but nice."

"Twisted?"

"Yes. You know…" Egypt twisted his finger, against his temple. Sealand nodded.

"Let's go to the market now," Egypt said and got up. Sealand exclaimed in excite and hurried to take his coat. "You know what we should bring?" Egypt asked, wearing one of Finland's coats above his'.

Sealand nodded and turned to Egypt, to assist him button his own coat. "Papa left a list on the fridge. Wait, I'll go get it!" without waiting for an answer, the kid hopped to the kitchen, returning after a while with the paper, handing it to Egypt, who put it in his pocket.

"You usually go shopping with your parents?"

"From time to time," the boy blushed slightly, looking on floor. "I… I tend to argue with jerk England, whenever we meet, so they prefer me to stay away from him."

Egypt put a hand on his shoulder, petting it. "Don't worry, kid."

Sealand smiled in relief and took Egypt's hand.

**x**

The supermarket was much bigger, than Egypt expected; it took him a while, to realise, it was just a typical European market. Sealand grabbed his sleeve, when they were in; at first, Egypt thought he was doing so, to not get lost in crowd, but then understood, it is Sealand who is afraid _he_ will lose his way.

The boy directed him skilfully, around the huge dungeon of all-of-all, while explaining him about the variety of things. There wasn't much point with that – Egypt was familiar with most of these things and more – but it seems that the boy enjoyed the feeling of responsibility, so he led him.

"Egypt~"

He turned his face in surprise, to the sound of his name. He smiled softly, when he saw Russia standing a few metres away and holding a package of vodka, smiling at him sweetly. Sealand shuddered and hide behind Egypt, peeking out worryingly. "Russia!" Egypt said with a honest pleasure. "Nice to see you again."

"Da~" Russia opened his eyes, still smiling. "I was wondering, if I'll get to see you again, before this little project of you, will be over~"

"I'm sure, this won't be the last time either."

"Good~" Russia offered them a short smile, before he paused for a few second with serious face, that increased Sealand's shivers. "Say, Egypt~ Do you think, they'll be looking for another couple, for this little show?"

"Maybe. You want to join?"

Russia shot a quick glare to Sealand and looked around, then bent to whisper to Egypt's ear, "I need an excuse to keep _her_ away for long enough." He straightened himself again; Egypt nodded in sympathy.

"I'll see you later, Egypt~!" Russia smiled at them and waved for farewell, going to the cash register.

Sealand inhaled, not leaving Egypt's coat. "This guy scares me," he admitted. "Mama told me, he knocked him some years ago, after he was trying to force mama to live with him, but he's really scary…"

Egypt looked at him in surprise. "Russia?" he asked. Sealand nodded. Egypt shrugged, "he's a really nice guy, I think. He helped me a lot in the past."

Once they found all they needed, they turned to stand behind a tall, blond man, on the line to the cash register.

It took Egypt exactly a minute, to recognise why this back looks so familiar. "Hi, Germany."

Germany turned his face in slight surprise, smiling awkwardly when he saw them. He was irritated; they could immediately tell that, by the way he looked around or moved his weight from leg to leg.

"Hallo," he said, when he turned to them. He was holding a few packages of würst; in front of him, they noticed Italy's back, and could hear him singing to himself aloud. "Nice to see you, Egypt."

"Pleasure to see you, too."

Germany looked at Sealand, who was still holding Egypt's hand, with a questioning expression, but before he could ask a thing, Sealand said, "Egypt is going to spend two weeks with papa and myself, while mama is with his family!"

Germany nodded in understanding, though seemed to pale at once. "This 'Wife Swap' thing?" he asked.

"How do you know?" Sealand's eyes widened in surprise.

Germany blushed, "well… Italy tried to sign us for that thing, to surprise me or something," Germany sighed, "but they didn't accept us, since we don't have kids." He paused and then looked again at Egypt in confuse. "How come, they accepted you? I thought, you don't have kids."

"I don't," Egypt confirmed, "but Turkey has, and I agreed to cooperate with that, to have _some_ time to myself." Germany looked at him in full sympathy.

"You arrived today?" he asked.

"No, that's my forth day already."

"How is it going so far?"

"Still early to say."

Germany couldn't but gulp in surprise, when he noticed Romano was standing right before him, whistling to himself innocently. Germany looked at them in slight shock, then returned to look at Romano's back. He wasn't there, last time they checked; but when Germany touched his shoulder hesitantly, Romano looked at him in such abhorrence, Germany only muttered, "never mind", and sighed deeply, when Romano looked forward again.

"Good noon, Egypt." He turned his head to Austria, who was standing behind him, nodding at him politely.

"Good noon." Both Egypt and Sealand, returned him a polite nod.

Austria seemed, as he is about to say something, when he eyed something beyond them. "A-are they _chatting_ over there?"

Everyone turned their faces, to the front of the line. There, next to the cash, stood the eternal-cheery Spain, who – instead of start passing the terrified-looking Korea's purchases, neither helping the sleepy-as-always Greece to put his own in packages – was having a vigorous conversation with the latter. Austria frowned, then stretched his head and exclaimed, "what the hell you think you're doing, you moron? There's a line, you know!"

Spain ignored him; Austria tsked, before he raised his voice, "Spain, you imbecile, listen when you're talked to!"

Spain lifted his face at him, widened his smile and waved. "Austria! Impatience as always, eh?"

"Just do your work, Spain, you're wasting out time."

"I don't see the others complain!"

"Austria's right, you bastard!" Romano interrupted, frowning, "do your job already!"

"Fine, fine," Spain waved his hand carelessly, and started passing Korea's purchases – the latter, who was lying on floor and screaming for mercy, now got up – and was obviously trying to start a conversation with him as well. To Austria's horror, Korea cooperated.

He was completely red by now. "Spain!" he roared.

Spain resumed passing Korea's stuff, without saying anything.

Egypt could feel Austria's breathe on his nape – this, although he was standing half a metre away from him – while he was trying to calm himself.

After fifteen minutes – and another outburst of Austria, when Spain stopped everything in order to seduce Romano – their turn has finally arrived. Spain offered him a huge smile. "Hi, Egypt!"

"Hi," he smiled back, offering him a hug and a kiss on each cheek in return; Spain, of course, cooperated with that gesture.

With Austria standing right behind him, and sending threatening glares to Spain, the latter said nothing while he was passing Egypt's purchases. Egypt followed carefully after every registration of product, that appeared on the small screen in front of Spain. There was something wrong with it; that wrongness only increased, with every new purchase, and reached its edge when Spain printed the bill for Egypt.

Egypt took the paper and read it once. Twice. After the fifth time, he ripped his eyes from that piece of paper, and put it on the little drawer, next to Spain. "What is it?"

"The bill."

"I know, that's the bill. But it's wrong."

Spain took the paper and compared it to the flickering numbers on the screen in front of him. He looked at the paper again, before he gave it back to Egypt, "everything is alright with it."

"Check again."

Spain checked again, but his response stayed the same. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"The calculation."

"Do you want me, to pass your purchases again?"

"Yes."

Ignoring Austria annoyance, Egypt removed everything back on the conveyor belt, while the slightly surprised Spain passed his stuff again. He printed the bill and compared it to the former one, then to the screen, and handed the two papers to Egypt. "It's still the same."

Egypt rolled his eyes, "it can't be, this is the calculation. It's too high."

Everyone – including Sealand, who paled – looked at Egypt, as he has just lost his mind. Spain, uncomforted by the situation, coughed aloud. "E-excuse me?"

"The prices are too high," Egypt responded naturally, raising an eyebrow. "There must be something wrong with it."

"Can't be," Spain responded, coughing loudly once again, "that's how the prices in this supermarket, are."

"They're too high, then."

"I'm just working here."

"A worker, who doesn't do his job…" Austria muttered between his grinded teeth. The both men ignored him, and Egypt said, "a Euro and half, for a simple gallon of milk?" he tsked, "it's stealing."

Spain inhaled, "that's the supermarket's prices, whether you like it or not."

"These supermarket prices, aren't fair."

Sealand covered his face with his hands, the skin beneath is heated up in embarrass. Spain coughed, cleared his throat and coughed again, blinking in disbelief; even Austria was just standing there, without saying anything, looking at the scene in almost horrify. "I –" Spain started and cleared his tongue, "I… I'm not responsible for these prices."

"Too bad," Egypt took Sealand's hand, much to the boy's ashamed recoiling, "we're leaving."

"B-but papa sai –" the boy started, but Egypt cut him.

"I don't care what your papa said. I'm not going to let them steal my money," Egypt said resolutely, looking straight into Sealand's eyes, in serious expression. Then he turned to Austria, "I'd suggest you not buy this here; in the other supermarket, they sell this cheese in only two Euros, and in a bigger package."

Austria's eyes lit.

Seeing that, Spain swallowed, and asked in a small voice, "y-you said what?"

"I said," Egypt said in accentuation, that highlighted his played accent even more, "that in the other store, the prices are much cheaper. So I'm going there."

Spain hesitated for a second, before he whispered, "_how_ cheap?"

"Over a Euro less, than the prices here, in average." Now Egypt lowered his own voice.

"Perhaps," Spain kept on whispering, some cold sweat collected on his temples, "we can… we can reach some arranging, can we?"

_Bingo_.

"What's your offer?"

"Half a Euro lower."

"A Euro lower."

Spain frowned. "I can't. It's too much."

"A Euro lower, or I'm going now to the other market, after I'll tell anyone else, about your prices here." Egypt remained stern.

Spain sighed, "half a Euro for the cheaper purchases, one for the rest."

"Deal."

Spain passed the purchases again – ignoring Austria's loud moan of despair – making sure to lower the price of each purchase. Egypt was thrilled – even he didn't expect it, to be that easy. He thanked Spain with a little nod of the head, took Sealand's hand and went out.

Sealand looked at him in impress. "How the heck, did you do that?"

"Bargaining,[2]" Egypt responded.

**x**

Sweden was already at home, dressed casually when they came in. "Papa!" Sealand exclaimed, running into Sweden's lap and hugged him tight for greeting – Sweden turning all red at once – while Egypt waved. Sealand broke himself apart from Sweden, when he got up to help Egypt to put anything in place. "N'rway, Ic'land an' D'nm'rk w'll com' 'ver lat'r," Sweden mumbled, blushing even harder.

Egypt turned to him, confused.

"Ye' m'nd?"

Egypt raised an eyebrow. "Let me understand," he demanded, "you just asked me, if I mind people will come over later?"

Sweden nodded, as red as a tomato.

Egypt titled his head, "I'm used to people who're coming over in the middle of night, without even knocking on door, not take 'no' as an answer, and you're actually _asking_ me, if I mind that you'll bring some friends."

Sweden nodded.

"_Of course_ I don't mind."

Sweden turned to prepare an early dinner and some snacks, while Egypt decided to give Sealand one, last chance, in mathematics, meanwhile. They both already changed their own clothes to more comfortable ones, and both also with still wet hair, after Sweden demanded them to take a shower; the only reason, Egypt cooperated, as his impression of Sweden, who didn't give up the argument even after the first five minutes.

Sealand explained him – as one of his desperate attempts, to move the subject as away as possible from mathematics – it's some family tradition of them, which they called _Fredagsmys_; Egypt couldn't help, but note, it's similar to some tradition of his own family, but only for the Ramadan.

They ate some Swedish pancakes for dinner on six, and on seven, there were some knockings on the front door. Happy to stop pretending to listen to Egypt's lasting explanation, about trigonometry. Sealand jumped from his chair and rushed to the door. Norway and Iceland were standing there, nodding everyone politely for greeting on their entrance. Egypt noticed, they were also dressed in homely clothes. Denmark arrived himself, just when they got in, putting his feet on the threshold, to block the door from closing, and entered. "yo!"

Norway and Iceland rolled their eyes.

"Cozy Friday, eh?" Denmark said and wrapped a hand around Norway's shoulder, pulling him closer. "Wanna go cozy with me, Norge?"

"Stop that, idiot…" Norway mumbled and tried to shake off Denmark's hand. The latter laughed, but moved his hand.

"Uncle!" Sealand exclaimed and wraps his arms around Denmark's waist, hugging him tight.

"Hey, kid!" Denmark smiled widely while he pulled the kid close with his own embrace, lifted him and headed to the sofa, taking his sit with the boy on his laps. The others followed them to sit.

"You brought me anything?" Sealand asked, smiling from ear to ear.

"Not today, kid. I don't wanna spoil ye'."

"Ev'r sinc' ye'r n't wantin' t' spo'l h'm, D'nm'rk?" Sweden grinded.

They ignored him. "Spoil?" Sealand asked, looking up at Denmark.

"Yes. You shouldn't expect me to bring you something every time I see you, right?" he smiled at him a little.

"Right…" the kid muttered, downcasting his face a bit.

The Dane smiled somewhat wickedly, and buried his hand in his pocket. "Close your eyes, kid."

Sealand immediately shut his eyes tight and covered them with his hands; however, once his fingers spread on his face, he opened them and peeked. Denmark pretended he doesn't notice, and took his hand out of his pocket, opening the wrapping of a chocolate table. "Open your mouth," he said, and once Sealand did so, he put the chocolate in the boy's mouth.

"Yumm~" Sealand hummed, while he chew the chocolate with a huge smile plastered to his little, cheered face. He swallowed, and grinned even wider, "thank you, uncle!"

"Enjoy it, kid," Denmark smirked, messing Sealand's hair before he turned his face to Norway, who has been looking at them. He frowned, when their eyes met. Denmark laughed, before he turned to the rest. "So, what are the plans for today?"

"Ah th'ght w'll spend som' tim' t'geth'r, sinc' it's Fr'day..." Sweden mumbled, a slight blush covering his cheeks.

"Fine with me!" Denmark exclaimed after a moment, "so who's for a monopoly game? I'm going to conquer all of you!"

Iceland snorted. "It's a game for kids…"

"We can always play lego, you know…" Denmark widened his smirk.

"I want to play monopoly!" Sealand interrupted.

"Sounds like a plan…" Egypt said with a light smile.

"Great! What 'bout you, Sverige? You're in?"

Sweden sighed. "Y's."

Iceland paused, exchanging quick gazes with Norway, before he mumbled, "well, then I'm in, too." He looked at Norway again from his eyes' angle, the latter glaring at the space in front of him.

"Great! Sealand, wanna go with me, to bring the game?"

"Yes!"

"So climb up to my shoulders, we might need your height!" he said, helping Sealand to climb up, and once he was sure the kid was secured, he got up, and turns to Sweden. "It's in that closet of yours, right?"

Sweden nodded.

Denmark turned to the closet, holding Sealand tight as the kid had to let go of the Dane to bring the game from the top shelf of the closet before they turned back to the living room, but are smiling wide in excite. Denmark lowered himself, to allow Sealand to get off him, and then sat down on the carpet, with Sealand on his side, to arrange the board. Sweden looked at them with a little embarrassment, but said nothing.

Once all was set, Denmark carried his face to look up at the rest. "Aren't you coming?"

Egypt slipped from the couch, to join them on floor. "What are you taking?"

"I'm taking the horseman!" Denmark announced.

"And I'm taking the dog!"

"I'll take the wagon, then." He took his player, placing it next to the other's, on the first tile of the board.

Iceland joined them after a moment or so. "I'll take the car," he said.

Seeing his brother joining, Norway sighed and took a sit next to him. "I'll take the ship…"

"Papa!" Sealand exclaimed, jumping on his sit, "you should take the hat!" he handed it to Sweden, who nodded and took it, "you always wear one, so it suits you!"

"So, who's gonna start?" Sealand asked.

"Ah th'nk Eg'pt sh'd start," Sweden mumbled, and blushed, "he's 'r g'est, af'r 'll…"

Denmark frowned; the dice he just rolled, showed the number six. "Fine, then," he said, and offered the dices to Egypt. "Roll it."

He smiled to himself, took the diced and rolled them. 6 and 6. "_Ahlan_~" he smirked, and moved his little wagon, which stepped on a drawing of a light bulb, that escorted the caption of _Lysverker_.

"Light-Power station," Norway mumbled him the translation. "It's 3,000 kroner."

"I'll take it," Egypt said, counted 3000 kroner and gave them to Sealand, who declared himself, as the manager of the game. "You're set," he announced and handed him his card.

Egypt rolled the dices again – 4 and 1 this time. His player stepped on the '_Prøv lykken_' tile.

"_Det er bursdagen din. Motta 2,000kr fra hver spiller_…" Norway mumbled, when Egypt showed him the card. Norway sighed and delivered him 2000 kroner, "for your birthday."

Denmark made a face, murmuring something about beginners' luck when he handed the kroner to Egypt with a frown; Sealand emitted a shriek before he did so, while muttering, "you'll give it back to me, sooner or later!"; Iceland and Sweden simply gave him.

"I've got a good feeling about that game," Egypt smirked, while pretending to count the fake banknotes in front of them.

Denmark smirked. "Don't get too cocky, you're sitting with an expert here!" he said, grabbed the dices and rolled them.

"We'll see about that."

**x**

Not only Egypt didn't give Sealand the money back, he kept receiving more than spending and soon Sealand found himself on the edge of a bankruptcy, just when Egypt suggested him to unite their purchases and play together as business partners; Iceland already had to sold his few purchases, to not lose the game, while Norway lend him some of his own purchases and later, when he ran out of those, some of his fake money. Sweden owned all of the train stations, what placed him in a relative good state; Denmark owned the brown series and built one hotel in each of the two streets, and the red series – with two hotels in each street – after Egypt gave him Slemdal and Bygdøy Allé, only for his commitment to give him 20% of the money he will receive from each person, who will step there.

Iceland stepped there.

The boy covered his face with his hands and cursed under his breathe.

"That's it." He lifted his face a little, leaning his jaw on his now entwined fingers, his elbows are on his knees. "I've lost."

Denmark reached his hand behind Norway's back, to pet Iceland's back. "Don't be so gloomy. Remember where you are! You're at _my_ hotel. We probably had some wild night in there, so I might let you go with this one… honey." He smirks and winked.

Sealand looked up at Denmark, somewhat annoyed. "You didn't let _me_ go, when I stepped in your hotel!" he complained, not understanding the situation.

Denmark blushed deeply in respond, not really looking back at the micronation. "You see, Sealand… uh… you have Egypt, to take care of you, and he's in a pretty good shape… Iceland is… well…"

Norway frowned, but said nothing. Iceland blushed and frowned himself, "s-shut up, you pervert!"

Denmark looked back to Iceland, smirking. "You prefer to pay it and lose the game?"

Iceland rolled his eyes, "alright then. Whatever you said."

Denmark grinned, satisfied. "When will you join us, Norge?" he asked.

"Never," Norway didn't even bother, to look at him.

"We'll see about it. Who's turn is it now?"

"Mine!" Sealand exclaimed, catching the dices. He rolled 2 and 1 – what directed him to step on one of Sweden's stations. Just when he was about to pay, Egypt said, "you don't have to pay, we have stocks there." Sealand nodded and smiled, handing him the dices. "Your turn."

"How come, you have stocks in Sweden, Egypt?" Denmark asked, raising his eyebrow in suspect.

"I have stocks everywhere."

"You don't have stocks in _my_ country!"

"I have a stock in Slemdal," he smirked.

Denmark frowned, but said nothing. Sealand gave a High Five to Egypt, but are smiling slyly.

Egypt stepped on the '_Prøv lykken_' tile again, now receiving 1,000 kroner from the main stock, for being "_en forsiktig sjåfør_". They were smiling wide again, when Sealand added 1,000 more kroner, to their shared stock.

Sweden took the dices, and rolled them. 6-6. He trailed his little hat lengthwise the tiles. He stepped on Rådhusplassen.

Where Egypt and Sealand had 3 hotels.

"You lost! You lost!" Sealand exclaimed, jumping up and down in his place. "Give us your money, papa!"

Sweden sighed, and gave them everything he has.

Iceland took the dices and rolled them; 5 and 3. His figurine, was currently on Grensen. He sighed, "can I roll again?"

Denmark licked his lips. "Rolling again is cheating! Why, don't you want to spend another wild night in one of my hotels?" he smirked at Iceland, who returned him a disgusted face. He opened his mouth again, but before he could say anything, Norway hit his head.

"Ouch! Norway, if you want to join, you're more than welcome…"

"Shut up, idiot."

"I prefer to lose this time," Iceland said, narrowing his eyes.

"You can say now whatever you want, but at night we'll see, who's laughing last," Denmark laughed aloud.

Iceland just frowned and threw all of his fake money on Denmark. "Here. I lost."

"So, it's just us against Egypt and Sealand now, Norge," Denmark said, as he collects the money Iceland threw at him, smirking wide.

Norway rolled his eyes and took the dices, rolling them. 3 and 1. He sighed himself, and moved his little ship from Gabels Gate, to Bygdøy Allé.

Denmark threw a hand around Norway's shoulders, pulling him closer. "So, it turned out that you _did_ come to my hotel, eh, Norge?" he smirked, and kissed the younger's ear.

"Shut up…" he mumbled, pushing Denmark off him.

"Fine then. Pay."

Norway counted his fake money, then gave it to Denmark with a frown. "I'm out of the game, too."

"Don't worry, love, I'll avenge your defend," he said, as he took Norway's money and organised it, before he took the dices and rolled them. 7 and 3. Without even blinking, he removed his little horseman from Torggata, up to Rådhusplassen. He counted the money, he owned Egypt and Sealand, nonchalant, and handed them.

"You forgot something," Sealand stated.

"What?"

"We have stocks of 20% in both Slemdal and Bygdøy Allé," Egypt said, his slight smile getting wider with every word, "but you didn't pay us, when you received the money, so naturally you now owe us the money with an interest, which doubled itself, since it happened twice. Which means," by then, the smile crossed Egypt's face completely, "you lost."

Denmark looked at his money and then at Egypt, all shocked. "You're cheating!"

"Cheating?" Egypt and Sealand looked at each other, before they turned back to him. "No," Sealand said, "you're the cheater; we had a commitment, which you didn't fulfill."

Denmark blushed, "whatever."

Sealand gave a High Five to Egypt once again. "It was a real pleasure, to play with you all," Egypt admitted.

"Next time, I'll win," Denmark declared, a bit hurt from his fresh lost.

"Sure."

_-Fin-_

Special thanks to **Seamus1995**, for her epic explanations about Swedish traditions, and for **Snappygirl** and **Elise**, for helping me with Norwegian.

And the hugest thank to – the one and only, the ever awesome – Rei, for devoting her time (and probably nerves, too XD) to actually making some of the scenes with me. You know how much I love and appreciate you~

_Ya_ – a direct turn in Arabic. It's a little hard to explain this, since it's not quite like the English 'you' and doesn't really have any optional translation, but in Arabic, it's often said before turning to someone by noun (for example: boy, man and alike). I just wanted, to clarify that, due to my broad use in it.

_Ahlan_ – hello or welcome in Arabic. The translation, doesn't really have anything to do with the context, but sometimes it's used as equal to a satisfied cheer or something.

_Prøv lykken_ – try your luck in Norwegian; that's one of the chance cards, in monopoly.

_Det er bursdagen din. Motta 2,000kr fra hver spiller_– for your birthday, receive 2,000 kr from each player (Norwegian)

_En forsiktig sjåfør_ – a careful driver (Norwegian)

Slemdal, Bygdøy Allé, Rådhusplassen, Grensen, Gabels Gate and Torggata – streets in the Norwegian version of monopoly.

[1] _Eid al-Adha_ (Festival of Sacrifice), is a Muslim holiday, that also represents the time of the year for the Hajj – the Muslim commandment of pilgrimage to Mecca.

[2] Bargaining is a wide tradition in all Asia; in markets, bazaars and rarely even in stores, the prices are fixed to be high in purpose, so buyers will bargain for lower prices. Even yet – only a crazy one, will go bargain in a supermarket, but I thought it will be hilarious, to see Egypt doing this in such place.

You are more than welcome, to review~


	11. Day 5: Finland's POV

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 5 – FINLAND'S POV**

It was either a very early hour of the day, or the middle of the night. Finland shut his eyes tight – his head was still tiredly aching, and he was desperate for some sleep – but low voices, a sound of a click and the smell of smoke interrupted.

He opened his eyes.

There were two people – each from every side of the bed – which were looking down at him, dark sunglasses are covering half of their face, cigarettes in their hands.

"Good morning, handsome," the left one said.

A stinky hand that was sent quickly to cover his mouth prevented him from screaming.

**x**

He was sitting on the edge of bed, his head still aching, with each of the weird little guys on each side of him. They were around the same height as the Emirates, if not smaller, and both had black hair and dark skin; the left one wore a long fake-leathered red coat with a black-and-white Kaffiya wrapped tight around his neck and his spiky hair; the second wore a fake-leathered black coat above white tunic and khaki sirwa, his own kaffiya was sloppily wrapped around his neck. They were smoking.

Better to say, they were _trying_ to smoke but even that seemed like a hard job for them; it was like their bodies couldn't bear the smoke: they were coughing heavily just to the scent of smoke in air, almost chocking when they attached their cigarettes to their mouth – then coughing again like mads, desperate for clean air whenever they inhaled it.

"Why are you smoking if it makes you react that way?" he couldn't help asking after the one who set to his right turned blue before he managed to breathe.

"'Cause it's cool," the guy said, coughing hard when he was trying to bring the cigarette to his mouth. "Same with the sunglasses. Aren't they cool?"

Finland nodded with an awkward smile, saying nothing.

Some long minutes of silence passed. "Who are you guys, anyway?"

"The almighty Kurds, we are!" the one who set to his left declared as they were both standing up.

"We used to be a great, rich and powerful kingdom, before the shitty Turk arrived," said the one who was now standing to his right; Finland decided to think of him, as Kurd-number-one, for now. The second one, who Finland automatically selected as Kurd-number-two, nodded. "He took over our extolled house," he said.

Finland felt a pinch in his heart. "Why?"

Kurd-number-one lit himself a new cigarette and coughed heavily even before the flesh touched it. "'Cause he's a shit," he said barely between his coughs, and still dared to inhale a bit.

"We don't like him," Kurd-number-two said.

"You're living here, then?" Finland was confused.

They both made a disgusted face; they probably stopped their breathe for a few seconds while doing it, because they both started coughing heavily at once, when they inhaled again. "No way!" Kurd-number-one managed to scream after he recovered the choke.

Finland felt himself blushing. "So, where?…"

"Sometimes at Irans'," said Kurd-number-one, "but usually at Iraqs'."

Finland opened his eyes wide in surprise. "A-at Iraqs'?"

"Aha," Kurd-number-two confirmed.

"But, isn't he…" Finland swallowed and paled. He wasn't thinking much about what he was up to say; lucky for him, he stopped himself on time. _If they live with him, they probably have a good relationship…_

"Ah, he doesn't know," Kurd-number-one spoke as he was up to cut Finland in whatever he would have been saying, waving his hand while he almost chocked himself to death by taking one, last inhale of his cigarette. "Not really," added Kurd-number-two, "but we don't think he cares, either."

"He never sees you?" Finland raised an eyebrow in scepticism.

"He saw us once, when we were trying to put an exploding cargo under his bed," said Kurd-number-two. Kurd-number-one nodded and said, "he growled on us, so we growled back, and after some time like that he just went away." They both shrugged.

Finland was terrified. "W-why… why would you put an exploding cargo under his bed?" he felt how his face losing the colour.

"To check if it works before we're trying it on Turkey," said Kurd-number-two.

Finland gulped. "You… you make a few of each kind?"

"Just one," Kurd-number-one responded.

"And the one, you're using on Iraq…?"

"Same one." The Kurds puffed their chests with pride.

Finland could only smile awkwardly again. _Are they serious_? He remained silence.

"Who are you, anyway, pretty-face?" Kurd-number-two checked him from his eyes' corner.

Finland felt the heat reaching up his cheeks. "I-I'm Finland."

"Finland, ah?" Kurd-number-two lit a cigarette in a way he probably thought as seducing, but almost chocked when he held himself hard from coughing. It took him a while to recover – in the meanwhile the smoke caught Kurd-number-one – and huskily ask, "what are you doing here?"

"Egypt and I are taking a part of some project, where two couples are swapped for two weeks in order to learn more but also to teach each other about –"

"Couples swap, ah?" Kurd-number-two asked.

Finland blushed hard. "Y-yes, but t-that's not what you think…"

Both of them were looking at Finland in what seemed as some honoured shock. "You can read people's minds?" Kurd-number-two coughed.

Finland waved his hands, "t-that wasn't what I meant…"

They emitted an impressed whistle. "Then," Kurd-number-one whispered carefully, "what is it, oh, you mighty minds' reader?"

"I'm not reading people's minds…"

The Kurds seemed confused. "But –" Kurd-number-two started.

Finland blushed, "well, I _assumed_ you were thinking about, well, you know…" Finland felt as his face was burning, "to judge by your behaviour or saying…"

The two emitted a God-fearing yelp. "So you _can_ read people's minds!" Kurd-number-one said, in the very same whisper, he was earlier speaking with.

"I-I'm no –" Finland started, but he was cut by a finger which Kurd-number-one placed on his lips. "You don't have to explain anything," his voice was shaking, "we know, you're an angel."

"W-what?"

"An angel…" Kurd-number-two repeated his friend's words with an idiotically high tone, looking up.

Finland tossed his head, "well, you're obviously wro…"

"You're not alone on earth, little angel," Kurd-number-one whispered. His voice was changed now to a higher, and definitely a silly tone. They both hung big, round eyes on his, holding their hands close to their chests, as prayers. Finland sighed.

"Look, I'm just here, for some project…" he said, trying to avoid that still silly gaze of their faces, "I'm not an angel, or whatever you think I am. I'm just a nation…"

"A _nation_?" Kurd-number-two exclaimed.

Finland paled. He couldn't bring himself to speak for a while; he cleared his throat again and again, paled even more, coughed and felt the cold sweat on his temples.

He calmed down only after he realized the absurd in the situation. It hit him by sudden – they are also nations, they spoke about Iraq, Iran and Turkey so casually, they said nothing when he presented himself as Finland… so how come they seemed so surprised now to hear that?

Finland tossed his head. "O-of course I am! And so you…"

"We are?" Kurd-number-one seemed terrified.

_What's wrong with these two_?

He tossed his head again. "You said it yourself earlier…"

"We did?"

Finland sighed, but tried to stay calm. "Yes, you did."

"Wow." The two were looking at him, all impressed, their eyes open wide in admiration. "Does it mean," asked Kurd-number-one, "we have superpowers?"

Finland gave up. "Call it however you want."

The Kurds stared in impression.

Some noises were carried from the hallway. The Kurds exchanged quick glares before they turned to Finland. "You didn't see us here," said Kurd-number-one before he and Kurd-number-two came out through the window; Finland was just about to warn them when he remembered it was the ground-floor. Even yet, both Kurds were screaming when they hit the ground. Finland preferred to not look out.

Being already fully awaken, Finland gave up the idea of returning to sleep, and went to the bathroom, knocking on its door first to avoid accidents like on the other day. He brushed his teeth and took a quick morning shower, then headed to the kitchen.

Cyprus – still in his pyjamas – was there, his back turned to him. Finland couldn't see what exactly he was doing, and was just about to greet him, when, much to his horror, he saw Cyprus – the young, innocent Cyprus! – making himself a glass of black coffee.

Finland paled. "Cyprus?"

The boy jumped on his place, almost dropping the glass. He turned to Finland, surprised at start, then smiled from ear to ea and waved sleepily at him. "Hi."

Finland fall into a nearby chair next to the kitchen table. Cyprus took a sit in front of him – after he made Finland a strong glass of tea. Finland thanked him with a nod, holding the mug between his two hands. "Does your father know," he asked after a few minutes of silence, "that you're drinking that?"

Cyprus looked at him in confuse. "What, coffee?"

Finland nodded.

Cyprus raised an eyebrow. "Well, of course he does…"

Of course, he says! What is so obvious about a kid who is just a bit younger than Sealand – _Sealand_! – drinking such a thing as _black_ coffee? Giving Sealand beer would be just as equal! Finland was trying to imagine Sealand drinking _any_ sort of coffee, but failed. It is just impossible.

It didn't seem, however, to effect Cyprus the slightest; it was either that the kid was already used to it (Finland tried hard not to think about _that_), or that was too early for the caffeine to effect.

Finland took a long sip from his tea.

Cyprus drank his coffee in short sips, to let the taste spread all over his mouth while his lungs filled with its strong aroma.

"Why you're awake so early, Cyprus?" Finland asked.

"I heard loud noises that prevented me from sleeping. Probably these stupid Kurds again…" he said the last sentence in a mumble, but it was enough to let Finland hear. He paled. "K-Kurds, you said?"

For a long minute Cyprus looked at Finland with a gaze he wasn't sure whether to translate as amused or worried. "You met the Kurds?" the boy has finally exclaimed. Amused.

Finland blinked and nodded. Cyprus started laughing.

Finland, in his turn, smiled awkwardly. He waited, until Cyprus' laughter calmed a little, and then asked, "who are they?"

"The most idiotic beings that ever lived," Cyprus said. "Even Iraq is all careful when they're around."

"They told me, they used to live here once…"

"Yes, when baba still had his kickass Empire." Cyprus smiled from ear to ear; Finland almost fainted to hear him speaking like that. But then he giggled again, like the little child he is.

Finland blushed. "T-they told me they used to be a great kingdom once…"

"You seriously think these two have _ever_ been a kingdom in their past?"

Finland blushed.

Cyprus scratched his forehead, "well, maybe it _is_ a tricky question…" he mumbled, more to himself. "Well, they _claim_ they were a kingdom in the past, but that's nothing more than a claim. You've _seen_ these two. They're as stupid as a banana."

Finland sighed. Hearing Cyprus speaking so openly about them, made him feel enough comfortable to do the same, "what's wrong with them?"

"Everything, I think," he responded, pouting. "They're just stupid, I told you." His eyes lit up in a mischievous grin all sudden, "they think I'm their God."

Finland raised an eyebrow. "How come?"

"I told them so," the boy's smile widened.

Finland smiled awkwardly, "they think I'm some mind-reading angel."

Cyprus laughed in amusement, "that's what they said?"

Finland nodded, smiling a bit wider himself.

"Baba is a little scared from them," Cyprus now spoke quietly, as he was afraid someone will hear him. "They demand an own residential unit in our house, but not in a conventional way…" the boy blushed.

"What do you mean?"

"They're trying to use terror against baba."

"T-trying?"

"Yes; they never really managed to make any of their experimental cargos to actually explode, but they sometimes do things which their stupidity turn dangerous, almost. I told you – even Iraq is worried about them." Cyprus took a long sip of his drink. "I suggest you to keep some distance away from them. Their sense of jurisdiction is rotten."

"I-I see." Finland took a sip from his own tea.

Cyprus finished his coffee in one, long sip, and got up. "I wonder if baba left me some candies…" he headed to one of the kitchen drawers, opening it.

Finland became tough all at once. "You haven't even eaten your breakfast yet, young man!"

Cyprus emitted a surprised yelp, looking at Finland as he was just stubbing his heart. "I-I thought, you're on my side!"

"Not when it comes to _this_ war, Cyprus."

The boy pouted and sat in front of Finland in crossed arms and profound gaze.

**x**

"Hi~"

Kuwait and the Emirates got in, both are neatly dressed and smell of an exclusive perfume wrapped them. Kuwait entered first, spreading wide smiles all over, to kiss and hug them for greeting; Cyprus was wiping the check she kissed blatantly. The Emirates was dragged a few metres behind her, focusing over her iPhone.

"Hi!" she exclaimed herself, waving at them when she looked up from the tiny screen for a few moments. "I'll be with you in a sec, I totally have to water my corn field…" she played with the keys, then approached to hug and kiss them herself. This time, Cyprus pouted in disgust already when she pressed her lips to his cheek. She giggled when she cut herself off, and looked around. "Where's Turkey?"

"Yemen kidnapped him," Cyprus replied nonchalant. He seemed amused. Finland looked at him in horror, soon noticing the rest were also reminding nonchalant. "k-kidnapped him, you said?" Finland asked hesitantly. _Maybe, I just didn't hear him well…_

"Aha," Cyprus replied, still cool, and got up with a sigh to make Kuwait and the Emirates some coffee.

_What's wrong with them_? "W-when?"

"At midnight, I think. Or after you got to bed…" Cyprus furrowed his forehead in thought.

"W-why would he do such a thing?" Finland paled. Yemen always seemed so nice and harmless… the thought that _he_ could ever kidnap anyone terrified him.

"Bedouin got in troubles again, so Yemen decided he has to kidnap someone, whom he could use as a hostage to release him." Cyprus finished making the coffee, handing the girls their glasses. He also made another cup of tea for Finland and for himself, then returned to sit. The Emirates insisted to kiss him again on his cheek for thanks, before he had the chance to protest. Cyprus wiped it again and pouted, "eew… why you've got to be so disgusting, Emira?"

The Emirates smirked wide, "can't help it; you're too cute."

"Yuck!" Cyprus kept on wiping his cheek.

"Who is Bedouin?" Finland asked.

"Some nomad," Kuwait, who took a sit next to him, said. "He appears in random gardens every now and then, and just living there for a few days. He's a very nice guy – he always invites us to his tent – though sometimes he gets in troubles because of that…"

"You don't have to worry much about baba, Finland," Cyprus interrupted. "He and Yemen are probably spending their time drinking coffee, chewing Khet and eating _sweets_.[1]" Cyprus looked at him in accusation.

"This won't work on me, Cyprus. I have a child around your age at home, you know."

"From which you prevent the little pleasures of life, aren't you!"

"Cute!" the Emirates shrieked in joy and wrapped her arms around Cyprus' shoulders. The boy struggled and protested, but she didn't let go but after a short while, when her iPhone started to beep. She almost threw Cyprus away, when she stormed over it. "Oh. My. God."

"What's the matter?" Kuwait hurried to bend over her direction. The Emirates showed her the iPhone screen, what caused the other girl to emit a yelp of herself. Then, they both giggled.

Finland felt as his cheeks heating, when he hesitantly asked, "e-everything is alright?"

"Yes," the Emirates turned her phone screen back to her and looked at it with restrained giggle. "It's just Iran's new post."

"Post?" Finland's cheeks burnt, now in slight embarrassment.

"In his blog," the Emirates said, handing her iPhone to Finland. The latter – unused for that thing – took it carefully, afraid to break anything. On screen, he saw what indeed looked like the first post of a blog. He handed it back to the Emirates, who spoke through this whole time, "he usually writes brilliantly about anything, but he's in one of his moods today." The Emirates and Kuwait giggled again, the Emirates also playing with the keys.

"H-his moods?"

"Yeah, when his Ayatollahs[2] get into his brain. You're commenting?" Kuwait asked, turning to her sister. The Emirates nodded, "yes. Here, listen: 'the Islam of the 21st century is calling you to wake up!'"

The girls giggled; Cyprus smiled but didn't emit a voice. Finland stared at them in shock, and smiled himself in embarrassment.

The Emirates resumed playing with her iPhone. Kuwait turned to the rest, "oh! We totally forgot," she said, while she put her Louise Vuitton bag on table and started digging in it, "we've brought you some presents!" she pulled out a small, rectangular black box, with an orange sign submerged on it. "The newest mp4 in market. You're one of the only 10 people who own that thing," Kuwait stated with somewhat pride, as she handed it to the excited-looking Cyprus.

"Gee…" the boy mumbled, checking his new gadget carefully. "Thanks. You two are awesome."

"Don't you think, we deserve a little kiss for that?" the Emirates smirked, and before Cyprus could say anything, the two girls tackled him with tight hugs and kisses on his cheeks. The boy pouted and cried in disgust, making the girls giggle even more.

"We've brought you something, too," Kuwait turned to Finland with a smile after she led go of Cyprus.

Finland looked at her in surprise. "Y-you did?"

"Duh, silly," Kuwait giggled again and pulled out a large box, this one wrapped with a silvery paper. "We were expecting someone to come and swap Egypt for two weeks. It would've been so rude if we were returning with nothing for you, right?"

Finland blushed. "You didn't have to…" he mumbled.

"Yes, we did," the Emirates looked up at him with a huge smile. "Our guests are like our family. Besides, you're totally going to love it."

Finland hung on both a grateful gaze, before he turned to open his present. He almost fainted, to find a new Polaroid camera – exactly the kind he and Sweden used to own, before the product of Polaroid was stopped. "I…" he was breathing heavily, on the edge of crying in appreciation. "I thught the product was stopped…" he whispered.

"Not when you have the right contacts," Kuwait winked.

Finland looked at them, smiling at them with teary eyes. "I don't know how to thank you."

"A hug will be enough!" Kuwait said and hugged him, kissing his cheeks. Finland gave in the hug as much as it took before the Emirates turned to hug and kiss him herself. "I told you you'll love it!" she declared with a giggle.

"Hey, Cyprus," Kuwait called, "why won't you take a picture of us three?"

"I have a better idea – let us all be photographed together!" the Emirates said. To Cyprus' face, she responded, "it comes with a system of automatic shots."

"If you say so…" Cyprus mumbled and took the camera, checking it. He frowned and then sighed, "yes, you're right." He adjusted the clock and hurried to return to his sit next to Finland.

The Emirates stretched her hand to take the camera with an excited yelp, tossing the still black picture. Everyone scouted around her to see. "D'aw, I'm so adorable!" Cyprus smirked to his theatrically suffered expression.

"You're so cute!" Kuwait shrieked and hugged him tight. Cyprus emitted suffocating voices.

"That picture really is nice…" Finland mumbled with a small smile, mostly to himself. He turned to the Emirates, who still held it. "You'll mind, if I'll keep it?"

"It's, like, yours!" the girl said, slightly surprised. "But, first…" she pulled out a pen from her Hester van Eeghen's back and wrote on the white line in the bottom of the picture, in a meticulous handwrite, the date, and "Kuwait, Finland, Cyprus & the Emirates =]". "Here you go," she said, handing him the photo, as well as his new camera.

"Thank you," he smiled.

The girl waved her hand in a gesture of, "you're welcome".

"Ha! You won't believe who just came here," Cyprus smiled slyly. The girls looked at him in curiosity. "The Kurds."

They pouted in disgust. "What, they thought it's, like, heaven or something?" Kuwait asked.

"Really, Finland," Cyprus turned to him, "they told you, why they were here?"

Finland blushed; he wasn't even sure, why he felt his face burning so much. "N-no… they just came. M-maybe they intended to put here some exploding cargo or something, I-I remember they said, they were checking one…"

Kuwait giggled leniently. "Ah, _that_. Well, they're _always_ trying their cargos," she said, and continued with a mumble, "if you seriously consider a piece of a silver-paper soaked by olive oil, an exploding cargo." She and the Emirates burst out in a rolling wave of giggles, Cyprus soon laughing along.

"Really, Finland, _khabíbi_," the Emirates said and put a warm palm on his; he felt a trail of sweat rolling down the side of his face, "don't take them too seriously, yes? They're just stupid."

Finland's face was burning for no reason, and he felt himself sweating hard beneath the thin fabric of his clothes. He glanced at the others – they didn't seem to notice, neither to care much about that radical change in air. Maybe it _was_ just him?

"Oh my God!" the Emirates cried out, tapping over her iPhone keys like a mad. "My sheep is dead!"

"Y-your sheep?" Finland wasn't sure whether he was just blushing irrationally, or because of the increasing heat.

"Like, duh!" the girl kept on a panicked tone, "I was too occupied with farming, and totally forgot about the sheep!…"

"Great job, Emira," Cyprus mocked.

"Don't you realise, it's an emergency?"

"It's just an online game," Cyprus snorted.

"Oh, yeah? You wouldn't say that if you were playing it yourself!" the Emirates snapped, and pouted, "besides, you _never_ log in your Facebook!"

"I think you were the last one to log, when you opened my page."

"Why aren't you logging?" Kuwait interrupted.

"Why should I?"

"Don't you want to be updated…"

"I don't need a website for that."

"Or watch and share pictures…?"

"Well, _that_ makes _some_ sense, but I still don't get why I need a website to be updated."

The Emirates looked at him in shock. "Duh!" she exclaimed after a pause, "because _everyone_ have! Even Finni has his own profile, aren't you, Finni?"

Finland smiled awkwardly.

"I bet he checks it!"

"A-actually, I am." He blushed again; for seconds, he wondered whether the rest are looking at him like that because his face was all sunk in sweat, or because of his respond. "D-don't you think it's pretty hot here?" he hurried to change the topic, but immediately regretted his wording. The rest exchanged their gazes, before Cyprus got up and went out. No one spoke for the while it took him to return.

"The air conditioner is defected again," he paused, "strange, I felt nothing wrong." Kuwait and the Emirates nodded in agreement.

"Y-you can fix it, right?" Finland asked.

"Ah… no, not really. I prefer baba to handle such things," Cyprus blushed a little. "It bothers you that much?"

"Actually, it is," Finland said. "I-I'm not used to such high temperatures…"

"High?" the three exchanged gazes again, Kuwait mumbling something about _just_ +32 degrees outside.

"_Just_ +32 degrees?" Finland repeated in disbelief.

"It's pretty low for the season," the girl responded, slightly surprised by his react. "Usually, it's up to +45…"

"No kidding." Finland paled.

"Oh! I, like, have a totally great idea!" Kuwait jumped in her sit in excite, "we can all go to my place! My air conditioner works just fine."

"There's also a totally cool mall nearby," the Emirates added with a hinting smile.

Cyprus turned to Finland, "what would you say?"

"I –" Finland felt slightly embarrassed. "I don't mind…"

"Yay!" the girls exclaimed, the Emirates also clapped her hands in excite.

When they went out, Finland noticed that Cyprus still remained the front door open – despite the incident with the Kurds. "You leave your house open?" he asked.

Cyprus looked at him in confuse, nodding.

"What if someone will get inside…?"

He shrugged, "well, they don't need _me_ to tell where the kitchen is."

"Don't you worry about the Kurds?"

"They won't dare to get inside, when no one's there," Cyprus smirked. "They're afraid of the assassin."

"A-assassin?" Finland shouted, turning all pale at once.

"Not a real assassin," Cyprus laughed, before he continued, " they believe that if they'll get into someone's house while that someone isn't there, and an assassin would arrive, he'll mistake them as the person he was ought to kill."

Finland still looked terrified, but preferred not to respond.

"D-don't try to understand that, Finni," Cyprus tried to make a comforting smile.

Finland nodded weakly.

"Cyprus, honey," the Emirates said, looking at him behind her shoulder, "you want to pick _ammu_ first?"

"Neh, let him have some fun."

They stopped before somewhat a small house, compared to the houses they were passing by, but this one with a fancy golden gate in front and a rich oasis-like garden. Finland eyed a pink Chevrolet parking in a separated wing. The house itself, despite its sizes, looked like an architecture wonder: it wasn't quite modern but unique to the surrounding. He swallowed the view in amazement, when Kuwait shook his hand, "come, get inside. I've got some green tea from Japan." Finland nodded and followed her inside.

He blinked.

He thought he was dreaming at first, but the sight which exposed him wasn't changing even when he accidentally bumped into a modern chair. He felt, as he was travelling in time, or at least entered a high-tech factory: the house was loaded by the newest technology; the TV, fridge, even the bathroom, as he discovered later – every stone of this house screamed modernism and prestige.

The furniture was modern and brilliantly designed (he felt somewhat pride, when he recognised some of Sweden's designs), enriching anyone's eyes with their remarkable mixture of colours, wealth and even a slight – yet, notable – exotic scent in the space.

"Nice, isn't it?" Kuwait said.

He couldn't agree with her more.

Finland noticed some pink round-shaped little robot, which wallowed all over the living room. He almost jumped when he first saw it; Kuwait giggled kindly, "don't worry, it's just my cleaning-robot, Juliet. South Korea gave it to me; it's the latest version."

Smiling widely, Cyprus stood in front of the robot in a way which caused it to bump into him. "I'm sorry, sir," the robot said in a mechanical voice. Cyprus moved again to block its way, smiling wider when the robot repeated itself. He has done so for some while, before Kuwait noticed, "it's so cruel of you, Cyprus!"

"It's just a robot!" Cyprus exclaimed in a defending tone.

"Don't you care about her _feelings_?"

"Don't be stupid, Kuwait, robots don't have any feelings!"

"Said the heartless you!" Kuwait pouted.

Cyprus blushed, "it's just a _robot_!"

"Well, Juliet is special." Kuwait pulled the robot into her lap. "You want to drink something hot? Cold?"

"What do you have to offer?" Finland asked.

"I have everything."

"Y-you've got some cold tea?"

"Right away."

She grabbed a remote control from the coffee-table and pressed some buttons; meanwhile, she indicated the rest to sit, soon joining them.

"So, Finland," she smiled and stuck her painted lips out a little, "how do you enjoy the Middle East so far?"

Finland felt once again as his body heated; he wondered if the air conditioner in Kuwait's house was closed for some reason, before he agreed to realise it's just him. It caught him completely out of guard; he didn't know how the heck he should respond that.

"I-it's nice," he finally said. _Nice, for a madhouse_. He tilted his head, "everyone are –" _insane, but_ "– so nice." He even managed to offer her an awkward smile.

"Is it much different from your home?"

"Pretty much, yes," he sighed. "Everything is all so different…"

"Like what?"

Finland couldn't be more thankful for a sudden interrupt, like when the little pink and orange robot which appeared with a tray with four glasses with cold tea and juicy slices of watermelon, putting it on the coffee-table. "Thank you, Lindsey," Kuwait said, the robot responds with a mechanic, "you're welcome, my fair lady"', before it went away. "Another gift from South Korea," she stated with a smile. "Enjoy your drinks."

"Usually, we drink Champaign, and eat caviar," the Emirates said and shrugged. "Just to let you know, she really has everything." Kuwait nodded, puffing her chest in self-esteem.

Finland nodded in impress, took his tea and drank it slowly. "It's really good," he said.

"Of course. Japan never gives me anything which ain't the best."

They kept on chatting for some while, and were cut when the front door was cracked open. Kuwait froze on her sit and paled at once; the Emirates choked a scream and even Cyprus stiffed in nervous. They all sighed in relief, when Turkey waved at them. "Hi, kids!"

They waved back with a smile. "Yemen released you?" Kuwait giggled.

"No, I asked him to leave," he offered her a little smile in return. "Having fun?"

"Totally!" the Emirates exclaimed, smiling broadly. "Don't you have great time with us, Finland?"

He nodded, smiling slightly.

"Want to come to my place? Yemen brought me some movies, I'm quite sure we'll all enjoy," Turkey waved some video cassettes.

Kuwait snorted. "Cassettes? Like, it's the 21st century!"

Turkey smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head, "well, that's what Yemen has…"

Kuwait sighed theatrically, before she got up and picked some DVD videos of her own, from one of the coffee-table's drawers. "I've got better ones," she smiled.

"Excellent. Let's go, kids."

_-Fin-_

Huge thanks to my dear **Rei**, for Beta'ing this chapter so awesomely!

[1] Based on some article, I found on the newspaper a few days ago, and I'm quoting:

"**An American couple was kidnapped, but chewing Khat**

The members of A-Šarda tribe kidnapped an American couple who travelled nearby the capital San'a, and demanding the release of some family member, who's in jail for land's dispute.

Security authorities said that the kidnap took a place around Al-Khaima, 45 kilometres south to the capital, when the tourists were on their way to the village Al-Khamra, which is known for its ancient houses. It's been also said, that the driver and the translator, who accompanied the couple, were kidnapped, too.

A related source of the tribe, reported: 'the kidnappers are enjoying a charitable hospitality. The tribe members are giving them food and water and even chew some Khat leaves with them. All in all, they just want to release some family member from jail'."

Let's see if any of you will find such article on newspaper, and won't use it. XD

[2] Ayatollah is a high ranking title in Islam; it's also a common slang, to describe the current Iranian regime, which is lead by religious authorities.

_Khabíbi_ – my darling (Arabic)

_Ammu_ – uncle (Arabic)

Review?~ y/y


	12. Day 5: Egypt's POV

**A/N:** If there are any Scandinavians out there who are willing to help me, _please_, feel free to contact me. I would really appreciate that.

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 5 – EGYPT'S POV**

"Ice-skating, ice-skating!"

"Wha –?" Egypt opened tiredly his eyes. He was sleeping in his suitcase again – it was pretty comfortable, actually – and noticed that Sealand was jumping on his bed and smiling wide. "Ice-skating, ice-skating!"

"Th't's 'nough, S'land," Sweden blushed hard when he entered the room and put a hand on Sealand's shoulder to calm him. Meanwhile, Egypt got into a sitting position and rubbed his face. As for a change, he wasn't freezing on the moment his consciousness returned.

"We wer' th'nkin' 'f takin' ye' t' som' 'ce-skatin'," Sweden said, pulling Sealand into his hands; the boy kept on shouting in excite.

"Why not," Egypt murmured in respond and slowly got up to stand. Sealand emitted another excited yelp.

Sweden nodded. "'nyway, breakf'st's r'dy." He paused for a few minutes to examine Egypt before he added, "Ah'll s'ggest ye' t' wear w'rm cloth's." He blushed slightly, but Egypt didn't seem to notice; he himself paused for a second, before he turned back to them. "You mind to give me a few seconds?" he asked.

"'f cours'," Sweden mumbled and got out, Sealand is still being held in his arms.

Egypt pulled out the blanket he was using by and spread it on floor, kneeling to practice his morning pray. He wouldn't mind others to join him, or even just watch, but these moments he dedicated just for himself and Allah, ever since he arrived that wilderness, were cherished. He kept his forehead attached to the floor and shut his eyes tight, when he was starting to think of his own family in a new light. Maybe he was prejudging them, just like anyone else?

He finished his pray with that thought, rolled back the blanket and put half of his clothes on before he got down for breakfast. He was quite touched to see Sweden and Sealand waiting just for him, before they ate the delicious pancakes and fried bread Sweden has made for them.

"We're going to have so much fun today!" Sealand stated. "We even convinced uncle Denmark, Norway and Iceland, to join us! You'll see, we'll have a bunch of fun!"

"I'm sure," Egypt smiled at him.

"We usually go ice-skating every Saturday, at winter," Sealand continued speaking, "this, or skiing. But sometimes we go on summertime, like today. Right, papa?" the boy wasn't even waiting for an answer, "sometimes, our backyard's freezing even at that season. Does it happen in your home sometimes?"

"No."

"No?"

Egypt couldn't help but smile a little again; there was something so innocently touching in that kid's face, "I don't really have snow in my place, but I do have a desert. You know what is it?"

Sealand tossed his head.

"It's…" Egypt paused, not sure how to explain anyone about something so obvious, so infinite and absolute as desert. Eventually, he gave up with a sigh, "…a lot of sand."

"Like on the beach?" Sealand jumped in his place.

"Perhaps you can call it that way. Yes."

"Can I see it?"

"If you'll ever wish so, of course," he offered him another smile.

**x**

Sealand was hopping a few metres ahead them, singing to himself in joy; Egypt was trudging from the back, while Sweden ran around between them, his face all red in slight embarrassment.

They met Norway, Iceland and Denmark in front of Norway's house. Sealand emitted a joyful cry and ran into Denmark's spread arms, pulled into a tight hug. Norway and Iceland only offered them a greeting nod, but didn't seem to resist when Egypt – desperate for some heat – hugged them and kissed their cheeks.

"We're gonna have so much fun!" Sealand exclaimed from his sit on Denmark's shoulders, substantiated with Denmark's rolling laughter.

"Yeah, sure," Iceland rolled his eyes.

"Is it far from here?" Egypt asked with chattered teeth.

"Not much," Iceland responded with a sigh. "Let's go already."

Egypt was amused by the exemplary silence, as they walked; he paled when he thought of the possible results if he had gone somewhere like that with his own family, but repressed.

Denmark was walking in front, with Sealand still on his shoulders, followed by the frowned Iceland and Norway, who both walked in silence. Egypt dragged himself from the back once again, slightly surprised to notice Sweden walking next to him.

"Ye're 'kay?" he asked with a slight blush.

"Yes."

Sweden paused and blushed a bit harder, when he asked, "h'w d' ye' d' so f'r?"

Egypt said nothing for a long minute, thinking; Sweden seemed as he was regretting for asking this, though his face softened in relief when Egypt finally responded. "Quite good," he admitted. "It's pretty quiet here…"

Sweden smiled kindly. "L't meh kn'w," he said, "'f ye' need anythin', 'kay?"

Egypt nodded.

They reached the site after fifteen minutes or so. Egypt exhaled in relief to discover it was a closed building, though – much to his terrify – the temperature inside was just freezing; a quick glance over the others, showed him they weren't bothered the slightest.

They all set on some benches next to the skating-court and wore their skates. Before wearing his, Sweden turned to Egypt. "Ah bro'ght ye' F'nl'nd's skat's," he mumbled, slight blush dotting his cheeks. "Ah hop' it'll be 'kay…"

He handed him a pair of silvery skates to Egypt. Egypt thanked him with a nod and tried them; the size was just a bit higher than his, but he assumed it won't be a problem. The others finished wearing their own skates and were already standing up, heading to the court.

_How hard can it be_? Egypt thought as he was standing up itself. It seemed just like regular skating, though with a metallic strip and a kind which fits to ice only.

Much to his horror, he almost fell when he was trying to stand up still.

He couldn't understand it. He was trying to stand still again, this time supported by the backrest of the bench, but he was still staggering, completely losing his balance.

"It always takes some time to get used to it," Sealand said with a kind smile and offered his tiny hand. Egypt took it in hesitation and the boy squeezed his grip, slowly leading Egypt to the court. "You think you can handle this from now?"

"Yes."

"Good." The boy led go and in smooth movement, slid to the middle of court and started skating along with the others.

Egypt was holding the banister as if his life were depending on it. His legs were shaking for no reason – he wanted to believe that's just because of the skates – and he felt how his nose became numb because of the cold.

He was eyeing the others from his position; neither of them seemed to notice his difficulty, as they were gracefully skating all over the court. Egypt couldn't even blame them – they probably didn't think he wasn't used doing this as much as they were.

He inhaled deeply and decided to give it a chance. Still supported by the banister with one hand, he straightened himself and spread his free hand to the other side, trying to get some balance. It seemed to work. He smirked to himself for a moment before he narrowed his eyes in concentration again and left the banister.

He gained some push and even managed to skate for a few metres, before he lost his balance and fall on his bottom. He hissed a quiet curse and was trying to get on his feet. It looked like a hopeless attempt – whenever he was trying to put his legs on the icy ground, they slipped, and he was falling on his back heavily.

He felt strong hands under his armpit and was lifted up to his feet. Norway continued to hold him stable, slowly releasing until he was putting only one hand on his shoulder. "You're alright now?" he asked.

"Yes."

Norway paused for another moment to make sure Egypt wasn't shaking, before he let go of him and returned to skate. He was pretty talented at that, Egypt noticed – his figure was straight and confident, his movements wide and smooth.

"Put your arms up in front of you, like this," Sealand, who was crossing him in dangerous speed, exclaimed. He himself was spreading his both hands to each side of his body; unfortunately, Sealand was too close and the shove destabilised Egypt enough to make him fall again. This time he was seeing it coming, and curbed the fall with his hands. "Watch out!" he heard Denmark screaming from somewhere behind him, and in a matter of seconds before he was crushed on him, he diverted himself and crashed into the banister before he could return into balance. He was neither aware enough to block the impact with his hands, and so he hit the banister face-first.

He emitted a pained yowl when he slipped the ground and held his bleeding nose. Norway hit his forehead with his hand before he approached to help him up, while Iceland stopped next to Egypt. "You're hurt?"

"No."

Iceland sighed. "That idiot…" he tossed his head, "he always finds himself crushing into things whenever we go somewhere."

Unsure about how he should respond, Egypt just nodded.

"Do you know how to get up from this position?"

"Not really."

Without saying anything, Iceland moved to sit next to him with his legs stretched forward. "Let's say, I just fell," he said, looking at Egypt to make sure he was following him. "Now, if you aren't alone in court, I suggest you to not put your hands like this on ground, because there's some possibility that _someone_ –" he sent a quick glance over Denmark as he was speaking, "– will slide on it and cut your palm." He returned his face to Egypt. "Anyway, to get up from this position, fold your legs to the side, like this…" Iceland demonstrated, and Egypt hurried to follow, "then you move to sit on your knees, like this." He demonstrated again, soon to sit on his knees.

Egypt followed. He was quite surprised to realise it wasn't as easy as it seemed when Iceland did so, but he managed to make it just without any difficulty. Iceland nodded at that and put one of his feet on ice, moving his weight over it as he put his both hands on his knee for support, "now you kneel, like this. Make sure to move your weight forward, in order to stay stable."

Egypt nodded and tried to move his own leg forward. It seemed to work at start, but as soon as he thought his foot was stably placed and started to lean forward, he fell as it was moving just the same; he tried to get his legs back, but it only caused him to lose his balance again, and when he was quickly moving his hands to the ground for support, he found himself pitifully fallen on his side.

"A-are you alright?" Iceland blushed a little and assisted him to get to sit on his knees again. He got up and moved to stand next to Egypt, still holding his shoulder for support. "Okay, try again now. I'll be holding you."

Egypt nodded and tried again. He felt how Iceland's grip tightens when he started shaking, soon stabilising him until he could have felt he would stay stable even if Iceland will let go.

As if he was reading his thoughts, Iceland asked, "you feel stable?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "Good. Now, when you're like this, try to straight your right knee while you're still pushing your weight on it, and meanwhile, stretch your other leg. I'm still holding you."

Carefully, Egypt straightened his legs. He felt his body losing the balance again, but Iceland's grip was stronger than he thought, and soon he was on his feet again. "Thank you," he looked at Iceland behind his shoulder.

"Any time."

"Can you also show me how to skate?" Egypt asked, happy for that his usually fairly tanned face was already pink from the cold, so Iceland won't notice his embarrassment. "I've never done this before."

Iceland was noticeably blushing himself. "I-I'm not sure if it's a good idea…"

"Why not? You seem to be pretty good at this."

"M-maybe," Iceland looked away for a few seconds and then bent his head, "I-I'm just not so sure I'll be able to teach you properly."

"Why?"

Iceland blushed harder and mumbled, "I'm not so comfortable when I try to teach things."

Egypt smiled at him from his lip's angle in sympathy. "I understand."

Iceland lifted his face a little at him. "I'm sorry…"

"That's okay."

He nodded and paused for a moment, before he returned to slide. Sweden approached a few minutes later. "Ye're handlin' 't?"

Egypt blushed. "Not quite," he admitted.

Sweden looked a bit confused. "Ye' nev'r 'ce-skat'd befor'?"

"No."

"Ah see." He said nothing for a minute, but then gulped and with completely red face he took Egypt hands. "'kay, start b' pullin' ye'r leg f'rward, like this…" Sweden demonstrated him without getting any push that will slid him forward, and returned his leg; Egypt has done the same. "G'd. N'w, do th' sam' w'th ye'r left leg, 'nd try t' get som' 'sp'd…"

Egypt followed. He failed to gain any speed, like Sweden asked, but the latter was sliding backwards to fit himself to Egypt's movements, dragging the smaller along.

He spotted Denmark – his nose already recovered from the hit – gliding all over the court while he was trying to make complicated twists and jumps, in most of his attempts almost dangerously falling; Sealand wasn't helping much by gliding all around himself in a high speed, laughing aloud in joy. Norway was sliding the best: each of his movements was flowing securely, and when he repeated any of Denmark's attempts, he has done it perfectly. Iceland, whom he was trying to teach the same, dared to repeat just the easier moves, blushing like a mad.

"Watch out!"

It was Denmark again, whom in his attempts to brake a fall when he landed from a failed jump, was crushed right into Sweden and Egypt, the thrust dragging them forward until they were crushing into Iceland, who was thrown along until they were blocked by the banister after a few more metres.

Egypt was barely harmed as Sweden managed to shield him with his body, and he was still held tight in his arms; both Iceland and Denmark got a hit in their heads from the banister, Denmark also started bleeding from his nose again. His arm was around Iceland's stomach as a result of the fall, and once he noticed that, he wrapped it completely around him, pulling him closer. "I always knew you like me, Ice."

"Get away…" the boy muttered angrily and shoved the hand away, causing the Dane to laugh. He stopped as he noticed he was bleeding again and emitted a loud cry.

"It's just blood…" Iceland murmured, as he was trying to get himself up, blocked again and again by the mess of limbs.

Norway and Sealand – the latter laughing hard – soon approached; Norway helped everyone to get up while Sealand was gliding around them in circles, making comments about Denmark's clumsiness. Just when Norway moved to lift Egypt, Sealand stumbled and fall over them, with it destabilised Denmark and Iceland's balance and made them fall along.

Egypt couldn't keep his surprise, when everyone begun to laugh. Norway, Sweden, Iceland – he expected none of them to react that way for such situation. Their condition was amusing, no doubt, but hearing people he thought as apathetic laughing like that… it felt weird.

He couldn't either think of how a situation like this would end if it was his own family. Someone will get hurt, that's for sure; there will be screams and curses, and it might even turn into a physical fight, but no one will manage to see the absurd in it. He sighed deeply but then laughed along, and stopped when a furiously-looking worker appeared.

"All of you, out, now," he demanded.

"But…" Sealand started but was cut by the worker, "honestly, I don't care about whatever you've got to say."

"It was just an accident…" Denmark hurried to interrupt.

"Look, I don't care. What you're doing now is interrupting anyone else who wants to skate securely. Pleas leave the court right that instant."

"Come on, don't be so heavy!" Egypt found no other option than interrupt himself.

"Get out."

"It wasn't like we've done anything wrong, I'm sure we weren't the only one to fall," Egypt ignored the man's saying and continued.

"I told you to get out."

"You didn't tell _me_ anything, when _I_ fall earlier."

"It's not the issue…"

"Yes, it is!"

To tell by the helplessly despair on the man's face, it was obviously the first time someone dared to argue with him about something. In many ways, Egypt enjoyed that.

"Get out _now_," the man spoke in a slow tone, "or I'll call the police."

Egypt snorted. "I bet you'll dare."

This time, there were Sweden and Denmark to cut him – each held one of his arms, and together they were dragging him outside.

"You give up easily," Egypt couldn't help commenting once they were out. Everyone looked at him in confusion, and he continued, "I would've been expecting you to stand for your right to stay there."

"We've done quite a mess…" Iceland mumbled.

"I wouldn't call this a mess."

"The worker thought otherwise."

Having no much patience to start arguing with someone who didn't even try to protest, Egypt just shrugged.

"Hey, look who's here," Iceland said with somewhat a sly smirk and looked beyond Egypt's shoulder.

Everyone looked at the spot Iceland was pointing at. From afar, all Egypt could see was a tiny spot in horizon, which got bigger and bigger. Soon enough, he recognised a figure of a small and somewhat chubby young man who was wearing an Eskimo coat and holding an harpoon, who ran right to them; a closer look showed him, the man was tanned and had a short black hair and slanted black eyes, which glittered in anger. Everyone got tensed though kept on stern face, except Denmark.

"I'll never give you my money again!" the little man screamed and started to wave his harpoon, aiming to harm Denmark. "You heard me?"

He stopped when Denmark started running all around, panicked and screamed, "what the hell are you doing?"

It took the man a few moments to regain his senses and scream back, "assuring I won't have to give you any money!"

"Why?"

"Because I'm sick of it!"

Egypt couldn't help the smile that stretched all over his face; for the moments he saw that little guy waving his harpoon, he felt warmth spread in wide waves all over his body. He felt at home.

Sweden snorted. "Ye' becam' s'ch a w'rm, D'nm'ark," he said in scorn, and then smirked mockingly from his lip's angle. "Ah t'ld ye' th' nothin'ness ye're doin' g'ts ye' out 'f shap'."

"Yes, Danmark," Norway added, amused. "You weren't like this in the good old days…"

Egypt glanced at them for a second and narrowed his eyebrows in thoughts. There was obviously something he was missing until now: the communication between those three. For the first time he realised he was just blind to see their own and special integration. He kept glaring at them in estimation before he looked back at Denmark, who seemed pretty effected by the situation.

He pulled his battle-axe out of no-where and started defending himself and stroke back the young man, who was probably expecting this react and stroke, simplicity evading Denmark's axe. Quickly, he reached an advantage: Denmark was too occupied with fighting back rather than defending himself, and the smaller utilised that to prepare himself for a finishing hit to get rid of Denmark's weapon.

It worked. The Dane wasn't expecting it, and his axe was slipped a few metres away, leaving him defenceless against that strange little man. His eyes were flashed open as he watched his axe falls away and hopped asides seconds before the man hit him with his harpoon. It took him another moment to gather himself, before he rolled his sleeves up and emitted what sounded like a battle scream and stormed over the little man with bare firsts.

"Who is this guy, anyway?" Egypt looked at Sweden, who was standing right next to him.

"''t's Gr'nl'nd," he responded thin-lipped. "D'nm'rk took 'ver h's plac' som' d'cad's ago 'nd can't g't r'd 'f h'm 'ver sinc'."

Egypt nodded.

Denmark managed to pull Greenland to the ground while they weren't looking, and the two continued to struggle all the more forcefully. Denmark was definitely enjoying it – unaffected of the strikes of Greenland's harpoon the slightest – he pinned the smaller with his body mass and attached back in a storm of fists, bites and scratches, while the younger tried to utilise his own physical advantage to shake him off and have him cornered; Egypt was almost touched by the boy's insistence, even though it was him to start this and to still have his weapon within reach – even Egypt heard, many years ago, about Denmark's abnormal resistance to any sort of pain.

"It'll never work _that_ way," Egypt remarked, when Denmark and Greenland were rolling on ground and stopped a metre away from the rest, who were looking at them from above. He didn't really expect anyone to listen to whatever he has to say, and couldn't help his surprise – even if that happened after a few more minutes of struggling – when Denmark got up, taking Greenland's harpoon with him, battered and unkempt but yet smiling wide in satisfy. He headed straight to Norway, who was staring at him back flatly.

"There was a conquest. And there was a plunder," Denmark waved the harpoon he has just confiscated, then smirked widely, "you know what comes next?"

Before Norway had any chance to protest, Denmark grabbed his waist and pulled him close harshly, dropping the harpoon as he wrapped is other arm around Norway to block him; Norway frowned and tried to take his hands off, but Denmark held him tight.

He approached his face to Norway's ear, a wicked smile spread on his lips. "You can try to guess, too…" he mumbled, before kissed Norway's ear. The younger man tensed, but remained stoic; Denmark chuckled and then moved slightly away, crushing his lips into Norway's.

Egypt wasn't even looking at them by then; he was moving in circles and rubbing his arms while he buried his face in his thick scarf, his mind is back to the loose ground of the Red Sea shores, just when he was interrupted by a loud hiss that spat out of Iceland's mouth. He looks up and turned his face back to them.

Horror filled him as he saw what was going on. It wasn't that he was so naïve or innocent, but to do such a thing in public? Not mentioning the fact that Norway didn't seem to be quite so delightful from the situation; he put his hands on Denmarks' chest and tried to push him away, but the other nation was too fierce. He murmured something that suspiciously sounded like 'stop it Denmark' when the other muttered something in his ear, the distance allowing Egypt to pick only a few words from, but they were enough to guess what he was saying, "why are you struggling so much? You'll enjoy this as much as I would, you know…"

He was _raping_ him. In front of everyone. It wasn't as if things like that were so rare in his home – he had Syria and Lebanon there, after all. But he wasn't used to communication between those nation, never mention any romantic relationships. Egypt looked around him, to see if by any chance he missed something, or didn't know them well enough to understand what was going on; the second one seemed to be more correct. Sealand looked at them in a mixture of disgust and interest, looking somewhat pained as Sweden put his both hands over his shoulders and clenched his fingers tight irrationally; Iceland was blushing in anger, but said nothing.

Egypt turned his eyes back at Denmark and Norway just in time to see the youngers' face flushing red and his eyes shut tight when the Dane touched the weird curl that stood out from the rest of his hairs. There was an evil smirk spread over Denmark's face as he did that, as if he already knew that that was Norway's sensitive place.

The lack of resistance from Norway's side seemed to encourage Denmark as, just like that, he was starting to play with the buttons on Norway's jacket, straggling to open them.

Norway was seemed to resist at start, but then he emitted a slight moan of half-heartedly protest and closed his eyes in defeat. Noticing that, Denmark left Norway's arms and moved his hand to his chest, and now started to remove the younger man's jacket. He was mumbling something into Norway's ear meanwhile, which caused him to emit another, louder moan. Denmark smiled wide and pulled Norway as close as possible, crushing their bodies together, moaning as well.

Neither of the people around noticed when exactly that happened, but soon enough, Denmark and Norway found themselves on the snowy ground, completely ignoring anyone around them as Denmark finally managed to open Norway's jacket completely and started to work on his shirt.

That was enough for Iceland; the boy's face were boiling of anger, as he was turning to them in loud steps. Denmark has already opened Norway's shirt, and was now moving his hand beneath his undershirt, aiming down to his pants, and was now kissing his neck. "G-get out of my brother!" Iceland cried and punched Denmark hard on his side of the body.

Denmark was cut off Norway while he rolled on his back. "Ouch…" he mumbled, then looked up. "What the hell –" he started muttering, before noticed Iceland and the others.

Still red of anger and slight blush, Iceland snapped, "he told you to stop, wasn't he?" Not waiting for an answer, he approached to assist Norway to get up.

"He enjoyed it!" Denmark said and lifted himself into a sitting position next to Norway, somewhat angry. "Party killer…" he mumbled, after Iceland got his brother up, and threw a snowball at him.

Iceland only blinked at start, surprised. It took him a few moments to realise what was just happening. "What was _that_ supposed to mean?" he asked with a frown.

"We had fun!" he exclaimed, and threw another snowball over the boy's face.

Iceland blushed slightly, "would you stop that? You're acting like a 5-years-old…"

"Says the one who can't watch his brother having a little fun as for a change!"

"It looked more of a rape!"

"I'd never do something to Norway that he won't approve of, idiot."

Iceland blushed again, this time in increased rage, and threw a ball over Denmark's face; that took Denmark by surprise, but a moment later he returned a snowball. Expecting that, Iceland moved away seconds away before the ball hit him – and it hit Norway instead.

Seeing that, Denmark immediately jumped on his feet and ran towards him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "Sorry, Norge, that was aiming for Iceland…" he said in slightly panicked tone, and then turned to the younger nation with narrowed eyes, "and after that you allow yourself to claim to be protective of him!"

While he was turning to Iceland, Norway made a snowball of his own which he threw over Denmark's nape. Denmark turned back to him all at once, surprised when he yelled, "hej! Norge, I didn't mean it to hit _you_!"

"That's for shouting at my brother," he responded deadpan.

"He kicked me!"

This time, it was Sealand to throw a snowball on Denmark. It barely hit his stomach, but Denmark looked sharply at his direction and cried, "what was that for?"

"Fun!" the kid exclaimed before he broke into laughter.

"No it's not! You shouldn't throw snowballs at your uncle!" Denmark said, while he unsuccessfully tried to remain serious.

Before he was able to finish the sentence, however, a plump snowball made its way straight to Denmark's face. Sweden remained as stoic as ever when he glanced back at him in his most aloof expression, and muttered when Denmark looked at him in a somewhat betrayed face, "that's f'r yellin' 't h'm."

Denmark pouted and exclaimed, "we were just joking and stuff!" and threw a snowball on him; Sweden quickly moved, but the ball still hit him. He was standing still in slight shock, not quite sure what was just happening.

Denmark shouted in victory and was about to throw another ball on Sweden, who gathered himself fast enough to throw another one on him, what destabilise the man's balance, and Norway utilised that to throw another snowball to the side of his body.

That was about the time when Egypt has completely stopped following whatever they have done; it was too cold to think, and the only thing he could concentrate at was rubbing his arms like a mad.

He wasn't used for anything like that before – the cold, but on top of all, the normality of this whole situation. He furrowed his brow when he was trying to put his own family in such situation, but failed already on the part of having them all together in one place just for someone's will. It wasn't like they were bad people or anything – he remained this for himself time after time for years – but they obviously have a serious problem in whatever concerned to interpersonal relationships between themselves. He always knew that, but he was never really thinking about this before.

His thoughts were cruelty cut by a fatty snowball that hit his face, its remnants slowly slid down to his neck, leaving freezing trails before they were shamefully sunk in the heavy fabric of his clothes.

He couldn't utter the slightest sound at first, nor even chatter because of the cold. He was shivering violently, and once the sensation returned to his face, he was grinding his teeth tight and emitted quiet voices of distress.

"Ye'r 'lright?" Sweden hurried to him. Egypt couldn't even bring himself to respond this – when he was just thinking of opening his mouth to respond, his teeth clashed harder. Sweden gulped but kept on his stern face and put a hand on Egypt's shoulder.

The rest approached as well, Denmark with somewhat a guilty expression. "Did I hit you hard?" he asked quietly, in a worried tone.

"Don't you see he's just freezing, you idiot?" Iceland frowned at him and turned to Egypt. He pulled down his coat and helped Egypt to pull his', switching between them, "here."

Egypt nodded weakly and lifted the collar up, then crossed his arms with his head bent to the fabric, to catch the most warmth it has to offer. It wasn't much helping, since the exterior part was wet of snow, but at least he felt warm from inside.

Denmark was looking around. "Greenland is gone…" he mumbled, widening his eyes in surprise.

Egypt took himself a minute to gain a control over his body again, before he said, "of course. The only way to get rid of attention-whores is to ignore them."

Denmark nodded in understanding.

"Ah th'nk we sh'ld g't back hom' now," Sweden mumbled, "'ts gettin' lat'."

The rest nodded.

"_Färv'l_," Sweden said with a nod when he grabbed Sealand's hand; the boy smiled wide waved at them with his free hand. Denmark returned him a huge grin and waved back, while Norway and Iceland only nodded and muttered for "goodbye".

"Thank you for today," Egypt said with a smile.

"Any time," Iceland offered him a small smile of his own. "We'll probably see you tomorrow, eh?"

"Yeah."

_-Fin-_

Special thanks to my dear **Rei**, for helping me writing this chapter (and also, for writing some parts of this) and Beta'ing it!

Review?~ y/y


	13. Day 6: Finland's POV

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 6 – FINLAND'S POV**

For the first time in days, Finland woke up with some fresh feeling, he was missing ever since he got to Turkey's place. It felt great. He got up from his bed in some increased energy and almost hopped his way to the bathroom. As if it was possible, the quick cold shower he took only reinforced his good feeling and he couldn't resist whistling to himself when he changed his clothes and headed to the kitchen.

Cyprus and Israel sat next to the kitchen table, giggling quietly while they passed a fake moustache between themselves; Morocco was in the living room, her back turned to them as she was cleaning, singing to herself; a single pot was cooked on the stove. For a few moments, Finland was wondering whether he should interrupt her for greeting or not, but then he shrugged and turned to the other two. "Hi," he smiled and waved when they turned their faces to him.

Cyprus – who sat the closest to him – turned his body and wrapped his little hands around Finland's waist without getting up from his sit; after he released, Finland turned to Israel, who was quite surprised at first to see him initiating anything like this, but hugged him back tight.

He took a sit next to Cyprus, who attached the fake moustache to his upper lip. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Playing 'guesses'," Cyprus responded and smirked, "wanna guess who I am?"

Finland thought about this for a few seconds. "Stalin?" he asked.

Cyprus tossed his head. "No. Try again."

Finland was running in his mind every single persona with a thick moustache he could have think of, but found himself rejecting each of them. "Can I ask 'yes' and 'no' questions?"

"As long as they're funny, yes, go ahead."

"You're a man?" Finland asked.

"Yes."

"A grown-up man?"

"Yes."

"You have a moustache at all?"

Cyprus looked at him with a seemingly insult, but couldn't keep on smiling. "Of course I have!"

Finland raised his hands, "I give up."

"You're so amateur, Finni," Cyprus mocked with a grin and turned to Israel, "you know who I am, don't you?"

"Of course, you're Dúdu Zar," she giggled.

"Correct! Your turn," Cyprus passed her the moustache, which she pulled on her own upper lip. "You want to try again, Finland?" she asked with a slight gentle smile.

"I have no idea," Finland admitted.

"I know, I know!" Cyprus jumped on his sit. "You're Dúdu Zar with a cold!"

"Correct!" she passed him the moustache and he again put it on his upper lip.

"You're Dúdu Zar, who feels so pity about the emptiness of modernisation!" Israel giggled.

"Correct!"

Finland smiled awkwardly. "Who's this Dúdu Zar?"

"A genius[1]," Israel responded with a huge smile beneath the thick fake moustache, she was now putting on again.

"_Sabah_," Turkey stood on the threshold, his face are still sleepy and his hair tousled from the night, waving at them. They smiled and waved back. "You slept well, Finland?" Turkey asked while he was standing behind Cyprus and put his both hands on his head, moving it back and forth – what the boy seemed to like, to judge by the smile on his face.

"Yes," Finland responded.

"Your skin is glowing," Turkey noted with a smirk. Finland blushed hard but just smiled, and Turkey bent a little to his child from above, "you already ate breakfast, kid?"

"It's on process," Israel said and nodded to the pot. Turkey smiled and bent his head, tossing it slightly while he emitted a chuckle.

"'Sup, guys." The front door was open with a kick and Palestine entered, greeting Morocco for morning before she walked into the kitchen, leaning on a random backrest. Turkey and Finland smiled a little and waved, and she waved back and sniffed the air before she remarked, "do you smell something burns?"

"Oh, it's probably my soup." Israel got up and approached to the pot, doesn't seem worried about the younger girl's remark. Palestine hurried to stand next to her and looked down at the pot, turning her face to Israel questioningly when the other was looking at her in suspect. "What?" Palestine asked. "I just want to see, that's all!" Israel was looking at her for a few more moments before she turned to lower the fire and removed the cover carefully. Naturally, the steams gone to Palestine's direction, as she was standing to the right-handed Israel's left side, and the girl immediately started to burst in heavy – probably exaggerated coughs – as the steams reached to her face. "S-s-she's trying to kill me!" the girl screamed between her coughs – too loud for someone who was getting choked by something.

"I-I didn't do anything!" Israel protested, horrified. She quickly returned to cover to its place, but Palestine didn't stop her increased coughs. "That's what you said after those phosphorus bombs during _Majzarat Gaza_[2], don't you?" Palestine snapped, not even trying to sound troubled.

"Because that's the truth!" Israel called back and paled.

"Said you!" Palestine emitted another, sorrowful cough, which brought Cyprus to roll his eyes. Israel, from the second hand, blushed but remained silent, trying to control the shivers of her body.

"Enough now, girls," Turkey said.

"She was trying to kill me!" Palestine exclaimed and opened her eyes wide, looking at him painfully.

Turkey ignored her and turned to Israel, "are you making a chicken soap again?"

She grinned and nodded.

Turkey turned back to Palestine with serious face. "Yes, she _is_ trying to kill you."

Palestine looked at the other girl and smirked in victory. "Ah-ha!" she called and pointed.

Israel rolled her eyes, "he was cynical, you now."

"Actually, I wasn't," Turkey said. "You're _always_ making this when it's your turn. I wouldn't be surprised if we'll all get some poisoning of chickens at some point."

"I'm not _always_ making it…"

"Right. Thank you for reminding me that Gefilte Fisch[3], I was trying to repress it."

"What happened?" Morocco entered the kitchen, drying her hands with a little towel.

"I made a chicken soap…"

"Okay, okay, stop, that's enough," Morocco threw the towel on her shoulder and waved her hands. When Israel turned to the pot, Morocco grabbed her shoulder and removed her away, "forget about that, girl."

"But it's burning…"

"_Of course_ it's burning. When you _don't_ burn whatever you're _trying_ to make?" she tossed her head.

"B-but, you said my cooking is alright…"

"Yeah… I lied." Morocco petted Israel's shoulder. "It's about time I'll finally teach you how to cook."

"America taught me…"

Morocco took a deep breath. "_Khalikie hadiya_…" she mumbled to herself and tried to smile. Finland noticed a vein bubbling up in her forehead and how the blood rapidly boiling. "You compare _me_ to America?"

Israel paled and tossed her head.

"I thought so," Morocco nodded in self-esteem and tossed her head in a gesture of tolerating Israel's innocent mislead. She took a deep breathe – "_khalikie hadiya, hia bas mt'asrah b'tkalid al-garbiah_…" – and said, "come here, girl. You too, Finland."

Finland blushed, "I-I already know h-how to cook…"

Morocco waved her hand, "you don't have to lie to me, honey. Come on, _habibi_…" she wrapped a hand around his shoulders to get him close and released, grabbed the handlers of the pot and spilled its inside into the sink, right to Israel's traumatised face, who has soon started to shudder. Morocco ignored it and threw a hands-towel over Finland's direction. "You'll now see how to make a _real_ breakfast, in Marrakesh style. You too, girl, get up from the floor…" Morocco kneeled next to Israel and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to get up; the shorter smoothened her skirt before she returned to stand next to them. "We'll start with the basic – chakchouka. Finland, honey, get me five tomatoes from the fridge."

Finland nodded and turned to the fridge. He eyed her meanwhile, seeing her pulling out a large bowl and a grater. He raised an eyebrow at that, but before he had the chance to say anything, she took the tomatoes he was carrying and put them on table. "Back away, it might be a little nasty," she said, and without any warning started to pump the tomatoes – squirting their juice anywhere. Finland managed to find a hiding place under the kitchen-table in a matter of moments before he got the tomatoes' juice all over himself, then he covered his face and shut his eyes tight.

A few minutes after, a hand robbed his shoulder gently. Israel smiled at him and pulled him on his feet.

Finland paled when he looked around. This whole place looked like a bloody battlefield: there wasn't a single wall, a single piece of furniture, which wasn't stroke by the juice. Morocco herself – whether it was because of her huge smile, or just the situation in general – looked like the butcher. Israel wasn't looking any better for she just stood a few metres away from Morocco, but still not as much stained as she; Turkey, Cyprus and Palestine have gone to the living room earlier, it seems.

"I'll clean it afterwards," Morocco waved her hand with a slight bothered expression and tossed her head, "you're coming over or what?"

Finland gulped and approached. He almost fainted when he looked behind her back.

At first, he was mislead to think it was a corpse chopped to many pieces, but hurried to shut his eyes tight and memorised it was just tomatoes. He inhaled deeply and tried to fix his breathe when Morocco poured some olive oil into the frying pan she was using by and pulled out an union out of nowhere. "You want to chop them, sweetie?"

Finland gasped at start and shut his eyes again. _It's just food…_ he reminded to himself and nodded – what caused a wondering expression from the two girls – before he sent a shaky hand to grab the knife. Morocco was staring at it for a few moments before she tossed her hand, "your hand is too shaky, I can't risk by giving you that." She delivered the knife to Israel, who grabbed it with somewhat an intimidating smile and started to chop it in dangerously quick movements. Morocco looked behind her shoulder and frowned, "not _that_ small!" she exclaimed and took the knife off her hand, chopping the union herself, "I can't understand how come you already managed to forget that."

Morocco pulled the union she was chopping into the pot and mixed it with tomatoes and oil, before she lit the fire. "Finland, honey, bring me a few eggs."

"How much do you need?"

"I don't care."

He brought her four and watched behind her back how she was breaking them carefully into the frying dish, mixing it with the rest of the ingredients slowly. "Keep on it for a second," she said and put a spatula into his hands, bending to pull out some spices he have never heard of before; he gave up reading the labels after the first try. He paled once he noticed the amount of each of these, she poured into the dish. "Do you want to mix it all together now?"

He nodded weakly and took the spatula off her hands, slowly started to mix the suspicious mixture as Morocco put some other ingredients in it. "Yes, just like that, sweetie. You're doing very well, you just have to be more confident with your hand." Finland blushed at that remark but Morocco ignored. "Let me see…" she said and pressed herself to his back to look behind his shoulder. The boy was blushing hard; Morocco smiled in satisfy and put her hands on his shoulders, "good job. I think it's ready by now. Go to sit, honey."

He nodded and went to sit next to the kitchen-table while Morocco has made her last preparations before she fixed plates and put the pan in the middle of table. "Bring some spoons, girl," she said to Israel and peeked her head out the kitchen, to call Turkey and the kids. Israel returned with spoons and took a sit next to Finland, handing him one. He thanked her with a nod and returned his somewhat terrified gaze to the pan. "Don't worry, it's much tastier than it seems," Israel stated, when she noticed his face.

Finland gulped, "I-I already ate this before."

"Then why you're making such face?"

"N-never mind," he inhaled deeply.

"Be useful and make us coffee, ya Turk," Morocco said to Turkey as she took a sit on Finland's other side. "You feel alright?" she asked and hugged his shoulders.

"Y-yes," he mumbled weakly and sighed.

Turkey placed small glasses of coffee in front of each of them before he took his own sit.

"Bon appetite," Morocco said and seconds after everyone but the hesitating Finland pulled their spoons into the dish and started eating. "Don't be so shy, _habibi_," Morocco smiled to him kindly. "We always do it when we eat in such forum. Take as much as you want."

Finland smiled awkwardly and took some tiny bits of that dish to his spoon and hurried to put it into his mouth, to get rid of it as fast as he can. He already felt how his throat burns, but still managed to keep himself from screaming in pain. Just when he lied backwards on his chair, he felt some sudden movements, and before he realized what was going on, the chair broke at once.

He blinked in shock and didn't move a millimetre for the first few seconds; only when he started to feel the pain spreading all over his back, what only got worse when he was shifting in order to get up.

Turkey and Israel hurried to help, Turkey remains support him while Israel kicked the remains of the chair asides. "I shouldn't bring inside chairs from IKEA, eh?" she smirked and made eyes at them.

"H-hey, his chairs are perfectly fine!" Finland protested, blushing slightly, "it's not his fault, that you don't know how to assemble them!"

Everyone laughed a little, accept for Turkey who held himself hard from joining them, and brushed Finland's back. "You're alright?"

"Y-yes."

"We should've got rid of this chair for long ago, eh?" Turkey tossed his head with a small smile and offered Finland a new chair.

"It's my fault!" Cyprus interrupted and jumped on his sit, then blushed, "I must've been warning you… I usually sit on this chair, therefore it was so fragile."

"T-that's alright, Cyprus," Finland smiled at him; Cyprus, who was smiling himself in somewhat a shame, widened his smile.

"You're done with it?" Morocco asked. Everyone nodded and so she cleaned the table and moved to wash the dishes.

The Emirates and Kuwait entered, both dragging a neat set of Armani suitcases and dressed for a tropic destination. "We're going!" the Emirates announced, smiling wide.

"Going where?" Cyprus turned to them from his sit.

"For a vacation, silly!" the Emirates giggled.

"But you just returned from one!" he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah," the Emirates smiled sheepishly, "but lately, I've seen so many signs call, 'fly, Emirates!', I just couldn't resist[4]!"

"You won't miss us too much, we're coming back next week!" Kuwait said with a giggle.

Cyprus rolled his eyes and smiled.

"_Yalla_, bye!" the Emirates exclaimed and the girls turned to hug and kiss everyone around, before they took their suitcases and went out while they waved them with huge smiles.

"I think that's a perfect time for coffee, don't you think?" Morocco said and started to prepare glasses before anyone could respond. "With or without cardamom, dear?" she asked Finland.

"W-without?"

Morocco shrugged and put the finjan on boil.

Finland sighed.

"Hey, bitch," Palestine smirked and scouted closer to Finland, who was standing a metre away from Israel. "Guess what?"

Israel turned her face to the younger girl and raised an eyebrow in suspect. The girl only widened her smug. "What?"

"I hate you."

Israel bitten her lower lip and closed her eyes, taking a deep breathe.

"And guess what's else?"

"What?"

"I still hate you."

"Here, your coffee," Morocco cut the girl and pushed the glass into her hands. "Yay, coffee!" she exclaimed and started drinking it.

"Good girl. Now, go sit somewhere, and you two –" Morocco pointed at Finland and Israel with somewhat threatening expression, that caused Finland to shriek, "come here, I haven't done with you yet."

She stood between them and wrapped her hands around their shoulders, leading them back to the marble. "Now you're going to learn how to make a respectful couscous. Finland, honey, go and get me some vegetables. Israil, _ayuni_, bring me the wheat and pull out the _kiskas_, while I'll resume to clean."

They nodded and hurried to fill their tasks. Morocco sighed deep and tossed her head with a small smile, before she resumed cleaning. Finland waited with the vegetables he was holding, blushing irrationally. Morocco noticed that and smiled wholeheartedly, spreading one of her hands asides, indicating him to get close. "You don't have to feel ashamed of me, sweetheart," she said and hugged his shoulders. "As our guest, you're like a part of the family. You should feel comfortable."

He blushed harder but nodded and delivered her the vegetables. She thanked him with a smile. "Now bring me some meat, okay, honey? There's a pretty chunk of chicken in fridge." He nodded again and turned to bring it, as Morocco meanwhile pulled put some spices and told Israel to make some coffee. "We'll have a short coffee-break, and then we'll start, okay?" Morocco said when Finland turned with the meat.

They were interrupted by loud screams that came from outside. Israel, who stood next to the window, frowned. Morocco pushed her asides gently and moved the glass. "What the hell are you screaming out there?"

Finland peeked behind her shoulder. Iran was standing there and frowned. "I was trying to say something!"

"No one will ever hear you if you'll keep on screaming like a lost child! Come inside."

"I won't stand under the same roof with a heartless fascist!"

"The only fascist here is you!" Israel snapped back.

"Morocco, tell that babies' killer to shut her mouth, so we won't have to listen the bullshit she's uttering!"

"You're the one who's speaking bullshit, Iran!"

"Shut up, you two!" Morocco screamed and punched the marble, her face are completely red by anger. "Iran, you don't have to get in if you don't want to, you know, but stop shouting from outside, it's pissing me off!"

Both Israel and Iran paled; Finland has found himself trembling, cold sweat accumulating on his temples.

"You're going to keep on standing there like a block, or you're coming inside?"

Iran swallowed before he managed to mumble he's coming in, and quickly moved to the front door. Morocco sighed and turned to the still frightened Finland with a huge, warm smile, that only stressed him more. "Shall we start cooking?"

The boy gulped and nodded weakly.

Once again, they were interrupted by Iran, who entered the kitchen accompanied by Saudi Arabia. "Hi, Saudia," Morocco greeted the taller man. He returned her a warm smile.

"Yo, Iran, Saudia!" Turkey was calling them from the living room and waved. He was sitting on ground with Cyprus and Palestine, leaning backwards a little so he would see them through the lintel that separated between the kitchen to the living room, "you're coming to smoke?"

The men nodded and went out; before he joined the rest, Saudia was delaying on the threshold and looked over Morocco. "You're making me coffee?"

Morocco smiled tiredly. "Sure. Now, get out of the kitchen."

Saudia frowned a little but went out without saying a word.

When Finland turned his face back to Morocco and Israel, he found the latter sitting on floor again and hugging her knees, covering her face in them. "Iran hates me."

"Yeah… you'll get over it."

"Everyone hates me…"

"What got in you, girl?" Morocco raised an eyebrow and put her hands on her waists. "It doesn't mean someone will hurt you."

"That's what I thought at 1939."

Morocco frowned. "Come on, stop that. Now get on your feet…" Israel followed unwillingly, "good. Now go chop the vegetables."

She nodded and took a knife. Morocco eyed her, frowned and exclaimed, "no, you're chopping them too small!" she took the knife off Israel's hands and grabbed her shoulder, pushing her a little bit away. She tossed her head and smiled, "I forgot how clumsy you are. Finland, you think you can do it instead?"

He nodded.

"Go ahead. Girl, you just go make Saudia's coffee."

Finland took the knife with a stable hand this time and chopped. Morocco smiled behind his back. "Do the same to the meat, and put it all in here –" she pointed at a weird-looking pot, "– then cover it with water. I'll do the rest." He nodded and continued making it. "You're done, girl?"

"Yes."

"Good. Give it to me…" the girl handed her the glass, "touch nothing until I'll return." She got out the kitchen to give Saudia is drink. Soon enough, they heard her voice amongst the other sounds. He finished chopping the vegetables and now moved to do the meat.

"It'll take her a while," Israel said with a careful smile. "Shall I make you some tea?"

"I-I don't want you to bother…"

"How much sugar?" she cut him.

"Two."

Neither of them spoke when she has made him a cup of weak tea and filled herself a glass of the remains of coffee in finjan, and remained quiet when they drank the liquor. Morocco returned just when they finished their cups, with a sweet scent of flavoured smoke all around her. "Finland, sweetie, you're done yet?"

"No, I still have the meat left."

"Let me do it, sweetheart." He nodded and moved to let her take his place, giving her the knife. "You can start make börekler."

"It's simple," Israel said and pulled out puff pastry out of the fridge and put in on a spot which she floured earlier, stretching it a little. "Want you to spread margarine on it?"

Finland nodded and she handed him a small piece of margarine she was pulling along with the dough; he took it, grabbed a knife and spread it all over the dough. Meanwhile, Israel approached the fridge once more and returned with feta cheese and a jar with suspected creamy-yellowish dough.

Morocco turned her face to them. "Put some salt in it."

"Salt?" Israel raised an eyebrow. "Not sugar?"

"I knew those Europeans spoiled you," Morocco took a deep breathe. "Kid… you lived too many years in the cold over there, it seems like your brain froze. You forgot that in _my_ house, you don't eat the same dish as both course and desert?"

Israel returned her a sheepish smile, which granted her with a smile and a warm slap on the shoulder from Morocco.

"You used to live together?" Finland asked.

"Yes," Morocco responded, and added with somewhat mischievous smile, "for over 2,000 years ago."

"I came back to you a few times after…" Israel said, turning to her. "Like after Spain ejected me, remember?"

"Yes, yes."

Finland was looking at them for a while with somewhat surprised, and sighed. Maybe, he really is ignorant about the outside world; or the reason he never heard much about them, however, was just that he lived on the other side of the world.

Saudia peeked inside. "I'm hungry."

"We're almost done. You can get back to the living room, we'll bring it all there."

**x**

"I'm full," Cyprus patted his belly. Both him and Turkey were leaning with their backs on the sofa, which Palestine was lying on, quietly mumbling to herself in Arabic, when Turkey scratched the pan they were making the chakchouka on with a piece of bread; Saudia was leaning against a large pouffe half a metre away, and eyed him with somewhat an irritated expression. "It's not polite to have it all to yourself alone, ya Turk. Hand me bread…" he draw his pouffe closer to Turkey, took the bread he was offering him and scratched the remains along.

"That's the tastiest part of that dish," Morocco mumbled to Finland, who was looking at the two in confuse, with a slight smile.

"It was absolutely delicious," Iran called from his spot of the smaller sofa he threw himself on.

"I made it," Israel grinned evilly.

Iran paled and rolled to his side with sickly face while retching and ran to the toilet, with Israel laughing at his reactions.

"Actually, Finland made most of it," Morocco said and petted the boy's shoulder. She turned to him and smiled, "you're a fast learner. I had great time cooking with you."

Finland blushed and smiled back.

"What about the desert?" Palestine asked.

"You're serious?" Cyprus turned to her and raised an eyebrow. She looked back at him in slight surprise, "yes."

"How can you still think of food?"

"I have fast metabolism!" Palestine protested.

"This kid will never get full, eh…" Morocco mumbled to herself and tossed her head and got up, heading to the kitchen. She returned after a few minutes with eight glasses full of white liquor that from afar looked a bit like pudding, with a stick of cinnamon and a tablespoon in each. Palestine hurried to take herself one of the glasses and ate it.

"It's Salep," Morocco explained, "it's served as a desert here. Do you want to taste?"

"I don't think I can eat or drink anything now…" Finland sighed, lightly petting his stomach.

"I'll drink yours', then," Palestine said and grabbed another glass, eating it.

"I'll go back home now," Saudia said and stood up slowly. "Thank you for the food, Morocco, Finland. It was pretty good."

"Any time, honey."

"We'll go now, too," Israel said and got up.

"_We_?" the girl snorted. "I'm not going a millimetre with _you_, bitch!"

Israel closed her eyes and took a deep breathe, "whatever. As long as I'm concerned, you can sleep in a cardboard box, sweetheart. Too bad I have the only key, eh?"

"_Fine_," the younger responded angrily with a frown, and muttered, "only if you'll give me some ice-cream when we'll get back."

"Sure, nuisance. You'll get as much of ice-cream as you want."

"With crème brûleé," Palestine mumbled once she got up and walked over Israel, not resisting when the other hugged her shoulders as they went out.

"Iran will move himself out later," Saudia said with a slight frown. "See you," he waved them for goodbye and went out himself.

"I think I'll go to sleep now," Finland said and got up, blushing. "I'm pretty tired."

"I think we all are," Turkey said. "Sleep well, Finni. Good night."

"Good night."

_-Fin-_

Special thank for **SsmilyfaceE**, for helping me with Arabic!

_Sabah_ – morning (Turkish and Arabic)

_Khalikie hadiya_ – calm yourself (Arabic)

_Hia bas mt'asrah b'tkalid al-garbiah_ – she's just too influenced by the Western culture (Arabic)

_Yalla_ – c'mon (Arabic)

_Kiskas_ – a traditional North African pot for couscous.

_Börekler _– plural form of börek/burek (Turkish)

[1] Dúdu Zar is an Israeli artist who's known for his thick moustache. Thick moustache is a common stereotype for Israelis who live in communist/socialist cooperative settlements, as the thick moustache was also identified with Stalin.

[2] _Majzarat Gaza_ (the Slaughter of Gaza) is the Arabic name for Operation Cast-Lead of winter 2008-9, when Israel was blamed by the Palestinian government for using phosphorus bombs against civilians.

[3] The worse Eastern European Jewish dish, ever made: a mashed fish (without the bones), with a piece of carrot above for decoration.

[4] Those of you, who were following the World Cup games, have probably seen those red signs, with the "Fly, Emirates" slogan.


	14. Day 6: Egypt's POV

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 6 – EGYPT'S POV**

Egypt got up from the floor and rolled the carpet he was praying on, returning it back to its place. He stretched, and then hauled his feet to the kitchen.

Denmark was sitting alone in the living room and drank some beer. The hour was barely 5 a.m, but he looked fresh. Egypt waved at him for greeting casually when he passed next to the sofa, Denmark was sitting on, on his way to the kitchen, where he filled himself a glass of water.

In a matter of seconds, Denmark peeked into the kitchen. He seemed confuse; Egypt raised an eyebrow at that.

"Hi?" Denmark said, his voice just as confused and a little hesitant.

"Hi."

Denmark furrowed his brows. "It's 5 a.m."

"Yes."

"How come, you aren't asking me what the hell I'm doing here on this hour?"

Egypt thought about this for a few seconds and shrugged, "it's nothing I'm not used to." _If he only knew, how many times someone entered __**his**__ house at such hours, without any inviting._

_And not through the door._

Egypt noticed he was frowning, and returned his face to its natural expression. Denmark, from the other hand, seemed quite impressed by the things Egypt just said to him.

"I'm going to make some coffee. You want some?"

"You're gonna make this freakin' black coffee of you, that got Norge all freaked out some days ago?"

Egypt nodded.

"Yeah, make some for me."

Egypt turned to make them a glass, while Denmark headed back to the living room. Egypt couldn't help but enjoy this unexpected homely feeling, by having this man visit in such an hour, for no reason.

He got to the living room and handed Denmark his glass, before he threw himself on the other couch and sunk in it. All he needed now was a hookah, and a constant sound from outside.

"Sverige's still sleeping?" Denmark asked; Egypt nodded, and the latter snorted in scorn. "He's such a pussy! There were times, when he was naturally awaken at this hour and was going to haunt a seal for a morning activity. Now he's just a jerk."

"Mm." Egypt took a long sip from his glass.

"I mean, c'mon! you get married and become a jerk? Well, I like Finn – he's a nice guy – but Sverige's all like a worm, when he's around him!" he paused. "Say, _you_'ve ever been married?"

"No."

"I was once. To Norge," Denmark smirked wide. "We never even got officially divorced, so technically we still are, but Norge doesn't admit it. He's a shy guy, you see."

"Oh." He paused. "What exactly was going on there?"

"Oh!" Denmark's smirk widened, "in the good ol' times, all of Europe was scared of us!" he said. "You know, Egypt, we were Vikings once."

"Aha."

"We went to rob and plunder Scotland on daily basis," Denmark said. "I mean, me, Norge and Sverige. Finn and Ice joined us just later. But the three of us had such a great time together!"

"Yes?"

"Yup!" Denmark nodded and his eyes shone in excite. "Maybe you can't tell this about them now, but Norge and Sverige used to be just as awesome as I am once. Well, Norge is still quite awesome, but usually he shows that only when he's drunk. You never saw him drunk? He's so cute."

"No."

"You should hang out with us someday, then, we'll show ye' some good stuff. A~nyway," Denmark drawled the sound, "we did really cool things as Vikings. Sverige told you any of our stories?"

"No."

"Pfft! He's so lame!" Denmark tsked. "You see, what I'm talking 'bout? He's just a boring jerk. I once made him to believe, he has found a _Selkie_'s skin!"

"Selkie?"

"Yeah. It's some freaky creature, Norge claims he has seen. He said it's a seal that can come out of its skin and turn a human, and whoever finds its skin turn to its master, until Selkie finds its skin back. Anyway, it was just a dead seal's skin, but Sverige was so dumb, he believed it belongs to Selkie. I even convinced Ireland, to pretend he's actually Selkie's human form, and has been Sverige's slave until he got sober again. Ice was also there – it was long before he and Norge found out, they're bros, so he was more like our child at that time – and was staring at us with these big, baby eyes of him… he was such a cute kid once. I mean, he still is, but he was such a sweet baby…" he sighed, "ah! I didn't tell you – but we were also trying to convince Greenland to wear that seal's skin later. He used to be normal once, that dude, although he's still ugly. But he just ate that skin! Would you believe it?"

"No."

"He's absolutely crazy, that dude." Denmark nodded, as to emphasise his saying. Egypt didn't respond to that, and Denmark continued, "he tells quite awesome stories, though, when he's drunk enough to not harm anyone. About ghosts an' stuff. You believe in ghosts?"

"No."

"Well, _he_ believes. But he's a weirdo," Denmark snorted. "Norge and Ice are also weirdos, but at least they don't get their asses drunk and chase after people with weapon. C'mon, how primitive is that?" Denmark snorted again and took a long sip from his coffee. He distorted his face, as he was forcing himself not to spit it all. "Pretty strong, that shit."

"Yes."

"No wonder Norge got so hyperactive that day." Denmark smirked in mischievous. "Hey!" he exclaimed, his eyes spark in understanding, "maybe that's why you, guys, are so freak!" Egypt sighed. "Yes… think about this, it makes tones of sense! The much of caffeine you drink is the much crazy you get, and you, guys, are utterly living on that crap! It's all clear now…" Denmark emitted a victory yelp and smiled in self-esteem. "No wonder you have so many problems there. Awesome!" Denmark exclaimed and grinned wide, "I just came up with a solution for how to make peace in the Middle East!"

Egypt sighed quietly. When he was about to take a sip from his drink, Denmark took it off of his hand, "no! You didn't listen, to what I just said? You can't drink this!"

Egypt didn't have the patience to protest, so he just led him to do so, but was staring at him in unsatisfy, what caused Denmark to move in a little anxiety on his sit. Egypt liked it, and continued to stare.

"A-anyway," Denmark couched, "w-where we've just b-been?" Egypt stared, causing Denmark to cough again. "O-oh, yeah! Well, Greenland is just a freak." Egypt had lost his amusement of staring at Denmark like that, and stopped. Denmark couldn't help, but sigh in relief, before he continued, "but he has quite awesome tales 'bout ghosts. Did he tell you any?"

Egypt tossed his head.

"Too bad. But I'd suggest you, to not ask him to tell any; I think he bites."

"Ah."

"_I_ have _tones_ of cool things to tell you, though!" Denmark grinned wide, "like about the time, we were all dead-drunk and decided to come and rob England, although we knew, he awaits us with backup. His people were all over the shore and we thought, it could be interesting, to come in straight line and see what happens. And, guess what?" Denmark paused for a few moments while his grin widened, to give his words some dramatic effect. "It worked! It's either that, England's dudes were too drunk themselves, or us being drunk enough to go all wild." Denmark laughed. "Oh! And did I tell you, what we used to do, when one of our fellows died?"

Egypt tossed his head.

"We laid him in a boat with lots of grave goods that will help him next and then set it on fire and send it to the open sea. Then, the Valkyries – who are some absolutely cool and hot chicks, dressed with iron bras – come to pick his soul to _Asgård_, where he eats and drinks with all of the other warriors, and trains for the great battle of the Gods against the ice-giants! Kaboom!" Egypt blinked, and when he reopened his eyes, Denmark was already standing and swinging his battle-axe – Allah knows, from where he has been pulling it out now – "Pam! Waaam! Pah!"

"D-D'nm'rk!" the voice was even deeper than usual and, in some way, even scarier.

Denmark stopped and turned to that voice, smiling. "Hej, Sve!"

"Wh't th' h'll ye'r doin'?"

"Don't be so heavy, Sve!" Denmark led go a rolled laughter, "I'm having a conversation with Egypt!"

Sweden's face were flushed in anger. "St'p be s' ann'yin', D'nm'rk," he grinded.

"We had quite an interesting talk, actually," Egypt stated. Both Sweden and Denmark seemed shocked. "He told me some stories, from your Viking days, like about how he almost convinced you, that you had found some magical seal's skin, or about Greenland's experience with ghosts. It was pretty enriching, to know all that."

"Y-you actually listened?" Denmark asked with a low tone, his eyes flashed open in surprise.

"Of course." Egypt was confused. Why wouldn't he listen, if someone was talking to him? And it wasn't even like, these stories were boring. Knowledge is bliss.

Sweden sighed, but his cheeks still burnt. "Why ye'r h're?"

"Why, I decided to pay a visit for my cool bro!"

Sweden narrowed his eyes.

"What's with that face, Sve?" Denmark snorted, "it makes me feel, you don't believe me or something!"

"Ah d'n't."

"Gee, no need to be so harsh…" Denmark pouted. "Hey, Sve, since you're already awaken, why won't us both tell the little guy about Vikings? That's what he's here for! You had Vikings over there?" Denmark turned his face to Egypt.

"No."

"See?" Denmark turned back to Sweden, "he doesn't know anything about Vikings, and that's the coolest part about _your_ past!" Sweden frowned, but Denmark ignored it. "Anyway, I don't even know, where to start! I have plenty of things, to tell you! Hey, Sealand!" he exclaimed and turned his face to the stairs, where Sealand – still a bit dizzy – was standing and staring at them in half-closed eyes. "Come, come. You remember, the stories about Vikings I told you?"

Sealand stepped over and sat on the same coach, Denmark was sitting on earlier. "Yeah," he mumbled in a sleepy voice.

"I'm gonna tell some to Egypt now!" the man grinned even wider.

"Ooh!" Sealand exclaimed – completely forgetting his tiredness – and jumped a little in his sit, "tell him about the time, when you went to Wales, dressed like sheep!"

Denmark laughed, "yeah, that was a good one. Well," he turned to Egypt, his voice now a little louder and slower, as he was telling a story to a child, "we thought, that if we'll wear some wool, Wales would believe that we're some of his sheep. We were pretty wasted, too. We wore that wool and also started to emit really awesome voices of sheep…"

"Ye' wer' mooin' lik' a c'w."

"I was drunk! What'd ye' expect?" Denmark snapped. "Anyway, it was so awesome and Wales believed that, though he was all drunk himself. And, guess what?" Denmark paused for a moment, "he was _playing_ with us! Like, gee, dude, how gay is _that_?"

"'Gay'?" Sealand repeated, raising an eyebrow in confuse. "What's that?"

"It's when you're a guy who loves other guys."

"I love papa. Does it mean, I'm gay?" Sealand still seemed confused. Denmark tsked and tossed his head with a mild smile, "no, it's more like your parents. They're guys, right? I mean, both have dicks and guts and all that shit. So, if they wanna have sex…"

Sweden covered Sealand's ears with his palms. "D'nm'rk!"

"What? He came to the world _somehow_, you kn…"

"D'nm'rk…"

"I was sa…"

"Sh't 't."

"_Fine_." Denmark flopped back to his sit and crossed his hands, pouting. "Butt-face…" he mumbled. He just sat in silence for a minute, before his eyes lit, "Hey! I know, what we should do! We should show Egypt, how things worked like."

Sweden was glaring at him deadpan, before he nodded. "D'nm'rk, ye' be th' poor f'mal' v'llag'r," he humphed.

"What!" Denmark exclaimed. "I'm not gonna be the poor female villager!"

Glare.

"_You_ be the poor female villager!"

Glare.

Denmark paused for a second and sighed, "let it be the first to entre this door!"

"Fin'."

As it was the producer's sign of some bad comedy, someone knocked the door. Denmark was grinning wide to Sweden in victory; the man returned him a glare, before he rolled his eyes and said, "'pen."

The door was opening in a slow crack; Sweden paled and Denmark seem to freeze while he was in half-a-way to get up, as the threshold was all filled with somewhat a dark aura.

Egypt was the only one to smile kindly to Russia, at the moment the latter peeked his head inside, before he opened the door completely and entered. "Hello," he greeted with a sweet, sing-song voice.

"Ahlan, Ivan," Egypt greeted himself.

"It's so nice, to see you again~" Russia closed his eyes for a moment, offering Egypt a kind smile. The two Nordic men were watching them, paralysed in horror. "You're still here, eh?"

"Yes. I still have a week left."

"I see…" Russia was opening his eyes, but was looking at Egypt with a rare, honest sympathy, rather than the threatening-some gaze they expect him to have. Then he turned to the other two, again closing his eyes with a little smile. "I'm looking for Latvia. I haven't seen him for a while, and thought, he's probably here."

Denmark gulped again and again, failed to keep himself from shivering slightly; Sweden grinded his teeth hard, before he quietly mumbled, "h' ain't h're."

"Oh…" Russia was looking at him in his big and pained eyes. "I see…" he paused, before he forced himself a soft smile, "if you'll see him around, tell him, I was looking for him, da?"

"Ok," Sweden uttered.

"Bye, then," Russia waved for farewell.

"Take care of yourself, Ivan," Egypt was the only one, to wave back.

"You too, comrade," Russia smiled at him wide, and left.

Sweden and Denmark inhaled in relief.

"The next one, to entre this door," Denmark said, once he caught his feature back.

"Hm," Sweden nodded.

Just a few minutes have passed, before they heard someone knocking on the door again. "It's surely Norge this time!" Denmark announced, before he exclaimed, "come in!"

He spitted up a yell once Belarus opened the door, frowning as she was scanning the room. "Where's brother?"

"E-excuse me?"

She hung on him a dangerous frown, that made him pale and shrink a little in his place, before she said, "I saw him entering in." she opened the door at once, holding her knife threateningly. "Where is he?"

"Ah d'n't kno', wha' ye'r talkin' 'bout…" Sweden was just as pale as Denmark, but at least managed to keep his voice stable.

The girl turned her face to him and just stared. It took Sweden exactly one moment to gasp and lay back nervously on his sit. Even Egypt could have felt, how his body tense.

"You better tell me where brother is, da?" she said in a scary, almost whispering tone that ran a wave of shivering throughout the men's spines.

"H-h-he just went o-outside!" Denmark emitted with a shrieking scream, in almost a crying tone. Belarus examined him with narrowed eyes – causing him to shrink even more in his sit – before she said, "when?"

"A-a few m-m-minutes a-ago!"

The girl nodded in satisfaction, lifting her face a little so she was looking at the two Nordic from somewhat above. "Fine. _But_," she was narrowing her eyes again, looking straight into Sweden's eyes; he shuddered slightly, "if I'll find out you were defrauding me, I'll be back, and I'll slit each of your throats for whatever you have done to my beloved brother."

They returned her quick, terrified nods.

"Good," she said, and walked away, slamming the door behind her.

Now the three of them inhaled even deeper in relief.

"I think… I think we should just run away now, eh?" Denmark suggested. Sweden nodded, trying hard to regain his compose.

"C'me." Sweden picked the confused-looking Sealand into his arms, holding him close to his chest. He paused for a moment, before he turned to Denmark. "Wh'r we sh'ld tak' h'm?"

"To Latvia, no? They're good friends," Denmark shrugged.

Sweden frowned. "N'. R'ssia m'ght get thr'e."

Sealand's eyes were flashed open, "why not? I wanna see him…"

"It's n't saf'."

"Maybe we can take them both to Lichtenstein? She can babysit them," Denmark suggested.

"Ah d'n't kno'. H'r br'ther shoots anyth'n' that mov's…"

"At least it'll keep that Russian freak away. Besides, he wouldn't really mind – Swissy, I mean – as long as you're gonna pay her for babysitting them."

"Let's g'."

"So we're going to Latvia?"

"Hn."

"Yay!"

**x**

Egypt wasn't even watching for his steps; it was cold outside – much colder, than he would expect it to be on the beginning of August, even in such a northern place. He didn't even expect them, to stray outside like that at all.

"Here we go!" Denmark exclaimed as he stopped at once, resting his fists on his waists while scanning their surrounding with a satisfied grin. "Perfect spot for a camp."

Sweden stopped a few metres ahead. "Ye'r sur', that's ah g'd plac' f'r ah c'mp?"

"Well, of course!" he led out a laugh before – and Allah knows, where the heck he has gotten all required tools out – he had started to built a camp.

Egypt found himself a dry-looking trunk that laid on ground, and he sat on it while Denmark ran all over to bring more stuff for their little camp, with Sweden following him and commenting every now and then, completely ignored by the self-assured Dane.

This place looked quite familiar, Egypt realised. It was odd – he doesn't have any views like this in his area – and yet, he felt like he was been there before. He looked around, narrowing his eyes in thought as he was trying to remember how come this place look familiar.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"_Hafrsjord_!" Denmark said with a huge, mischievous smirk.

"What?"

"N'rway's b'ckyard," Sweden muttered and rolled his eyes at Denmark, who has been now occupied with fixing a tent. It looked odd to Egypt, but Denmark seemed to be proud about it. "Norway wouldn't mind that you're setting a Viking camp in his backyard?"

"Not at all!"

"You remind me a relative of mine, Bedouin," Egypt stated. Denmark was too busy with the tend, to pay any attention, but Sweden was looking at him questioningly and he continued, "he's a nomad, so every once in a while he just settles in someone's backyard."

"An' ye' 'gree t' th't?"

"Why not?" Egypt raised an eyebrow in surprise. "He's clean, friendly and always invites us to his tent."

"Hn."

"I'm done!" Denmark exclaimed and retreated a few steps backwards, to examine his masterpiece. "Neat, isn't it?"

"'t's crook'd."

Denmark laughed, "what are you talking about, Sverige? You'd wish to make such an awesome tent like this!"

"N'j."

"Whatever, you're just jealous!" Denmark stuck out his tongue – Sweden rolled his eyes at that – and then pulled out a crate. "Anyway, come over, I've brought some cool clothes for us!"

"Ye'r 'ver doin' 't," Sweden muttered. "'t's stup'd."

"Said you! But _you_ don't think it's stupid, do you, Egypt?"

He tossed his head, "not at all. It's like a living history lesson. It will be a great experience, really." He didn't really think so, but he was desperate for some action, and the idea was quite hilarious. Sweden glared at him with a slight blush before he nodded in agreement.

"Sweet!" Denmark exclaimed again and started pulling out of the crate clothes and fabrics made of thick wool and leather, handing them to the other two. "That's for the authenticity," he explained and started to put clothes on him. Happy to have warm clothes to shelter him from the cold, Egypt soon followed; Sweden hesitated, but did the same.

Once they were all clad, Denmark also handed them point-shaped helmets.

Sweden frowned, "ye'r ov'rdoin' 't."

"You didn't think so back to the old days!" Denmark again stuck his tongue out at him, receiving a frown in respond. "Don't be shy, Sve, put it on!" the shorter added and wore his own helmet. Sweden muttered something which Egypt suspected as a curse, and put it on.

"I always thought, your helmets had horns," Egypt said while he was checking the helmet he received, before wearing it.

"'t's ah c'mmon m'stak'," Sweden said. "Ah th'nk 't w's G'rmany who acc'dently st'rt'd 't, by dressin' 'pera s'ngers w'th th'm, b't Ah'm n't sur'."

"I see."

"Let's get into the tent!" Denmark interrupted and waved them to approach.

Sweden sighed and the both followed him inside.

"Bedouin's tent is much bigger," Egypt said. He shrugged when the both looked at him, "I've never been inside such a tent of this sort before, but it's nice here."

"You know, what's nicer?" Denmark said. Egypt tossed his head. "When we sit all together and tell stories about the old times!" he busted out with a laugh and hugged the annoyed-looking Sweden's shoulder, who shot at him a deadpan glare. He laughed at that and removed his hand. "Hey – you probably have some cool stories to tell, don't you, Egypt? I heard, you also believe in many Gods and stuff."

"No, actually, it was my mum. I accepted Islam."

"Islam?" Denmark raised an eyebrow. "Like, terrorists?"

"Not all Muslims, are terrorist!" Egypt opened his eyes wide in insult. "We do have radicals, but radicals can be found anywhere!"

"Radicals… isn't it that thing from nuclear factories?"

Egypt couldn't hold himself and facepalmed. "I was meant for religious radicals, fanatics, psychos…"

"Ah!" Denmark jumped, "like Prussia used to be in middle ages! Chill, dude," he said, once he noticed that Egypt was still holding his forehead with his palm, "I just asked you a question, you don't have to get so pissed!"

_Chill, he said! Just as if I wasn't freezing to death by now!_

"Sorry," Egypt said.

"Anyways, you said, you have stories to tell?"

"Not quite. It's either things I have done with my mum or cousin. I don't think, you'll find them interesting much."

Just when Denmark was about to say something, Norway peeked his head into the tent and frowned in annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here, Denmark?"

Denmark's eyes lit. He turned his face to Sweden – who shrugged – and turned back to Norway. "What does it look like?"

Norway sighed in despair and walked in, his frown grows bigger. "I don't know, how many times you've been dropped to the floor as a child, but you better keep whatever you're doing away from my house!"

"Or else?" Denmark was now standing in front of him, a huge smug smirk is spread all over his face.

"What are you doing?" Norway frowned again as Denmark gripped his wrist.

"Well… I guess it's your lucky day. Once again, you've been chosen to be the poor villager."

"What?"

"What do Vikings do?" Denmark smirked. "First, conquer your backyard – check on that. Massacre – we're going fishing tomorrow's morning, so I guess it covers that. Now, there's only one thing left…" Denmark tugged Norway's wrist, to pull him closer, and wrapped his other arm around the boy's back.

"Rap'," Sweden completed the sentence.

Norway gasped. "Why me?"

"Because we said, the first one to go through the door – well, into the tent, in this case – is the poor villager. Congratulations, you won!"

Norway sighed. "Oh, well, you crazy brothers, do whatever you want," he muttered and looked away, blushing slightly.

Denmark emitted a victory cry, before he turned to Sweden, "c'mon, Sve, he's all ours!"

"Hn."

"You're not coming?" Denmark raised an eyebrow in surprise, while he was starting to move his hand up and down Norway's back. Norway was still frowning, but Egypt noticed he was blushing even more to that.

"All ye'rs', Ah hav' m'wife."

"Yay! More for me!" Denmark now wrapped his both hands around Norway and nuzzled against the crook of his neck.

Norway rolled his eyes. "You're planning to do anything with me at all? I have other things to do, you know."

"You were asking for that!" Denmark grinned, fastening his grip of Norway at once, in a way that the younger was squashed by him, and then crashed their lips together, not giving Norway a place to protest or at least to prepare himself.

Egypt automatically looked away, trying to occupy himself with something else than the abomination that occurred right in front him; Sweden has done the same, only he seemed more annoyed and was blushing.

"N-Noregur?" the soft voice was carried from outside, and soon a silvery, tousled head, was peeking into the tent somewhat warily, "I heard noises, bro – oh, here's where you are."

Iceland sighed and tossed his head. Egypt was looking at him, and then moved his gaze to Denmark and Norway: Denmark was now groping his hands beneath Norway's shirt, receiving a sigh as a sign for protest from the bored-looking Norwegian.

"I'll go make myself a sandwich, I'll return when you're done," Iceland sighed again, before he retreated out of the tent.

"H-hey! Wait a sec, Ice!" Denmark let go of Norway at once – Sweden hurried to catch him from behind, so he won't fall – and grabbed Iceland's arm before the younger was already away, and shoved him inside, "we're having tones of fun here!"

"Sure. I can see how much fun is molesting my brother," Iceland muttered and rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, Ice! We just showed Egypt, some of the things we were doing as Vikings!" Iceland entered with a frown. Denmark petted his back and laughed, "now, that we all are here, why won't us set a fire and tell tales, like we always did in the past?"

"Where's Sealand?" Iceland looked around, raising an eyebrow.

"'t's eh l'ng story," Sweden responded. Iceland was looking at him for some while and nodded.

Egypt was just sitting in quiet and was examining this awkward family. He was delighted, they weren't exactly as he thought about them at start – true, they were too silent for his taste, but maybe, that's what an ideal family really is? Without any fight, without the constant tense, Egypt was starting to understand the real meaning of feeling cosy.

"So, Norge," Denmark wrapped an arm around the Norwegian's waist and pulled him close fiercely. "Isn't it the best camp, you ever saw?"

Norway stared at him blankly. "You don't know how to make a camp," he eventually said. "Go to do something useful with your axe, and bring some logs."

Denmark laughed. "I'm not gonna use my axe to bring logs," he snorted with an arrogant smirk.

"So do it bare-hand," Norway raised an eyebrow.

"W-what you're talking about? I'm not gonna get _any_ logs at all!" Denmark protested.

"You're going to bring logs, Denmark."

"Fine, fine!" Denmark said with a whiny voice and shouldered his battle-axe, disappearing in the wood.

"You need any help?" Egypt asked after some few minutes of a complete silence. Norway turned his face to him, a bit confused at start, before he said, "no, thanks. I just needed some silence."

Egypt nodded in understanding.

"I've brought you woods, Norge!" the exclamation was carried from outside, and soon Denmark entered the tent, after he had left the logs he was picking outside. Then he wrapped an arm around Norway's shoulder, "I also have some wood just for you, but I'll show you only when we'd get some privacy here."

Norway crossed his arms and looked away. He sighed, "I'm going to set a fire."

"Want me to help you?" Denmark jumped in his place.

"No."

Norway went out, and Denmark remained to look after the direction, he was heading to, a soft and somewhat sheepish smile spreads over his face. "Let's get outside," he said, turning his face back to them. Sweden nodded, and the three followed him outside, where Norway has already organised the woods and was lighting a fire.

The warmth of the fabrics he was wearing, and of the velvety fire on his face, made Egypt – even if for just a few minutes – to feel as he belongs. He closed his eyed and led his face sink in the soft wool around his neck. He opened them again, as he felt a hand on his shoulder. "C'me, s't."

Egypt took a sit between Sweden and Iceland. Denmark was sitting right in front Sweden, and was grabbing Norway's arm, to make the younger sit next to him; he did so with a sigh.

Egypt found himself wondering about the odd integration between these people. If one watches them from afar, neither of them seem as he is interested in anything but himself; but now, when he is sitting along with them like that, he can't miss these small gestures of affection they shared – whether it was by the way they were looking on each other, the tone they talked to each other with, or just the way they walked around each other alone. It was almost astonishing, Egypt admitted to himself, to see _how_ many things he had missed, or to think of how many other things he is probably missing. Maybe, there were things about his very own family, that he is missing all the same?

"Didn't you say, you'll tell me some of your stories?" Egypt asked after a relative silence, eager for some sound.

"Oh, right!" Denmark said. "Well, Norge has quite awesome stories! Don't you, Nor?" he scouted closer to Norway and hugged his shoulders.

Norway blushed slightly and looked away in annoyance. He paused for a second, before he said, "I can think of some folk lores…"

"I'd very like to hear them," Egypt said.

For one moment, Egypt could have swore, he has seen a shade of a smile that appeared on the Norwegian's lips' angle, but it faded just as suddenly as it appeared, when Norway started, "once upon a time, there were two brothers, who lived in the wood…"

"Hey, isn't it the story about the small boys who met the trolls of he –" Denmark interrupted.

"Shut up, Denmark," Iceland cut him with a frown.

Norway sighed and continued, "shortly after bedding down, they heard someone snoring and breathing heavily. The boys pricked up their ears, listening to see whether it was an animal or a forest troll they could hear. Then, the breathing came closer and clos –– Denmark?" Norway frowned and looked over the Dane, who was clinging to him and rested his head over Norway's shoulder. The latter was just looking at him with an innocent, little smile. "What the hell you are doing?"

"I'm so scared!" Denmark responded, not sounding too convincing.

Norway rolled his eyes and shrugged. "So, the breathing came closer and closer and the creature said, 'I smell the blood of a Christian!'"

"Hey, Egypt," Denmark interrupted again. Egypt moved his face to him in confuse. "You can also smell Christians' blood, can you?"

Egypt raised an eyebrow. "No…"

"But you're a Muslim!"

Trying hard not to distort his face in insult, Egypt responded with the calmest voice, he could effort, "that fact doesn't mean I can smell Christian blood."

"And Jewish blood?"

"Neither."

"Okay," Denmark shrugged in honest surprise and nudged Norway, "you can continue."

"You mind to stop interrupt me all the time?" Norway hissed.

"I'm not interrupting you. I'm just making comments!"

"Would you mind to stop with those comments, before I'm done, then?"

"Only if you'll give me a kiss in return~" Denmark drawled and pursed his lips together, flying kisses through the air. Nonchalant, Norway grabbed his tie and smashed his head against the ground. By the while it took Denmark to recover, Norway continued his story, "then, the boys heard footsteps so heavy that the earth shook, which told them there were trolls about.

"'God help us, what are we to do?' the younger boy asked his brother.

"'Well, you stay where you are under the pine tree, and be ready to grab the bags and run away when you see them coming, and I'll take the small axe,' said the other boy.

"At that moment they saw the trolls approaching. They were so big and heavy that their heads were level with the tops of the pine trees. But they had only one eye between the three of them, which they took turns to use. They had a hole in their forehead in which to place it, moving it with their hands. The troll in front had to have the eye, while the others walked behind, holding on to the leader.

"'Take to your heels,' said the elder boy, 'but don't run too far until you see how it's going. Because their eye is so high up, they'll find it hard to see me when I come up behind them.'

"So," Norway took a long breathe, "his brother ran on ahead, and the trolls chased him. Meanwhile, the elder boy came up behind them and struck the hindmost troll on the ankle, so that it let out a terrible scream. The leading troll was so frightened and startled that it dropped the eye, which the boy lost no time in picking up. It was bigger than two dishes put together, and so bright that even the pitch-black night seemed like broad daylight when he looked through it."

Egypt was rubbing his eyes; he lifted his face to Norway's, once he noticed the latter had finished his story. "It was a really nice story," he said.

Norway just nodded in response.

The others seemed to be, just as tired as he was: Iceland tried hard to keep his head straight, and Denmark yawned blatantly. Even Norway looked a little dizzy.

"Ah th'nk, 't's 'bout tim' we'll j'st go t' sleep," Sweden murmured. "T'morrow's gonna be eh t'gh day…"

"Yeah, he's right. We're gonna hunt seals tomorrow," Denmark said. "Let's get inside. Good night, everyone."

"Good night."

"G'natt"

"Góða nótt."

"Lyl."

_-Fin-_

A special and huge thanks to the amazing **Emma**, who gave me the idea for this chapter and helped me with the writing throughout the process, with her brilliant explanation, suggestions and her being in general.

Also – Norway is telling a folktale, called "the small boys who met the trolls of Hedal forest". I directly-quoted from troll-related folktales' book, which has been given to me by the awesome Emma. /bear-hug/


	15. Day 7: Finland's POV

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 7 – FINLAND'S POV**

It was one of these mornings, when Finland has literally waked up with a song in his heart. He yawned and stretched, and as he looked over the window, which has been covered by a thin curtain but was moving so stray rays of sun snuck in, he realised he has been smiling wide. He got down from bed and headed to the bathroom, humming to himself the song which he has been up with.

Although the day just started, the fact it is the last day of the first week make him feel as he reached some goal, or achieved something which has been caught as unreachable.

He heard loud noises from the living room. He was just about to start to wash his teeth when he noticed that, and paused for a few seconds to hear better. They were speaking about something he couldn't hear exactly what it was, but he couldn't miss how their tones, of some parts, went lower as they recognised how loud they were speaking although someone is probably still sleeping in the other room – though their tones got higher again as much as the conversation heated. Finland felt some warmness raises up throughout his body at that gesture.

He finished preparing and headed to the living room, where he spotted Turkey, Syria, Lebanon and another man whose it took Finland a while to recognise as Jordan, sitting around a hookah; Cyprus was sitting a few metres away and watched the TV. Jordan seemed agitated – he was nearby screaming, and his whole pasture was melodramatic almost. The rest didn't seem to disagree with him at all, and even then it was just as if he was angry about something. Finland also noticed they were speaking in a mixture of Turkish and Arabic.

"G-good morning!" he interrupted, smiling oddly. They all stopped speaking and looked at him in huge smiles, before they got up to greet him with tight hugs and kisses on the chick. Finland just resumed smiling helplessly to that, putting a weak hand on their backs in respond.

"Sit, sit," Turkey eventually said, "I'll get ya' something to drink."

"Bring us some baklava, _ya Turk_," Syria yelled behind him before he grabbed Lebanon's waist and pulled him down, to sit on his lap. "You gained some weight here, eh?" he smirked and groped the younger's ass, the latter blushes hard. "I like it, I've got more to grab." He has been probably squeezing it, to tell by the shriek that came out of Lebanon's mouth and Syria's laughter, that followed it.

Finland sat between them to Jordan, who still seemed angry. Turkey returned just when Finland was about to ask, what was wrong, and handed Finland a glass of tea, before he put a plate with baklava next to the hookah. "Thank you," Finland mumbled in respond and held it with his two hands.

"Can we now just come back to the issue?" Jordan asked impatiently.

"We didn't cover it all?" Turkey asked.

"What, you're an idiot or something? We haven't even started!" Jordan voice rose up and he frowned in annoyance. "What about this weird walking of tem? It looks like a goose, but it ain't, and it looks so retardedly stupid!"

"Well, I agree about that," Syria said and squeezed Lebanon's ass again. "M-me too!" the latter tried hard not to moan, "it's really retarded. Like, what's wrong with them?"

"He didn't ask you to explain!" Syria snapped and snuck his hand beneath Lebanon's galabiya. The younger flushed hard and moved his hands to cover his mouth.

"No, Syria, he actually has a point. What's wrong with those creatures?" Jordan took a long sip from his glass of coffee. "For Allah's sake, can't they just decide whether they walk like goose or something else?"

"Maybe they think it's sort of cute," Turkey suggested.

"It's like the voiced Lebanon emits in be –" Syria started with a smug smirk, but was cut by Lebanon, who screamed, all panicked, "too much informat – ahhh…" he couldn't help but close his eyes and lean backwards.

"See? Like this," Syria said.

"No, _their_ voice is much more loud," Jordan responded.

"Ahhhh!"

"Like this?" Syria asked again.

"More like a shriek," Turkey stated.

"Aaa – – ahhh!"

"Yes! Exactly!" Jordan almost jumped in his sit.

"Well done, kid," Turkey petted Lebanon's shoulder. The latter emitted a weak sound in respond.

"What else you have to say about those benguins, then?" Syria asked, petting Lebanon's arm lightly.

"Well, we didn't spoke about this look of them."

"It's sort of funny," Turkey smirked.

"Well, it is. Israil –" Syria distorted his face to the mentioning of Israel while Lebanon paled "–told me that some of her people are dressed just like benguins. She even calls them 'benguins' herself sometimes when she refers to them. I've seen some of them once, they really look like benguins.[1]"

"I like benguins," Lebanon interrupted, speaking mostly to himself. He blushed when he noticed everyone was looking at him, than frowned. "What? They're stupid, but cute."

"W-what's benguins?" Finland finally dared to ask. He wasn't sure whether it was the best timing, and felt how his face heated when everyone were looking at him in somewhat a shock.

"You don't have benguins where you live?" Syria raised an eyebrow.

"I-I don't think I have…"

"But you're living in the north!"

Finland just smiled awkwardly, unsure about how he should respond that.

"It's those pole-birds," Lebanon was trying to explain, speaking slowly as if he was talking to a child, "the black-and-white ones, that look like huge gooses…"

Suddenly, Finland got the realisation for that the hell they were talking about for the past half an hour.

"You mean, _p_enguins?" he asked carefully.

"Yes, _b_enguins[2]," Syria nodded, now raising his other eyebrow. "What else you thought we were talking about?"

"Ah…" Finland sighed. "Never mind."

He sled his glance to Cyprus, who was still sitting in front of the TV screen and was ignorant to his surrounding. Narrowing his eyes in order to have a better look on what has been capturing his mind for so long, Finland noticed that the boy was watching _Dora._[3] Finland raised an eyebrow, even without noticing he has been doing this; even Sealand said, it was a show for girls, and refused to watch it.

"Isn't he too old for this?" Finland asked.

"Oh?" Turkey lifted his face a little, half a baklava is in his mouth.

"That TV show, Dora. Isn't it he too old for this?"

"_…Can you tell me, where the bananas' tree is?_" the fictive girl looked straight into the screen with a smile.

"It's right behind you, idiot!" Cyprus yelled on the screen. "Turn over, asshole!"

"Look, Dora, the bananas' tree is right here!" the monkey said. Finland saw Cyprus facepalming conspicuously, before he yelled again, "of course, you dumbass! And you call yourself an explorer? Gee! Jesus can explore things way better than you, and he's _dead_!"

Finland paled. Who could ever imagine, such a cute and gentle-looking child like Cyprus would speak like that?

He emitted a soundless gasp, when he felt Turkey's hand on his shoulder, "he's fine, you see?"

"…You fucking idiot, if you want your map then just pull it out, you don't need us to help you, stupid bitch! Argh!" Cyprus screamed in frustration.

"Besides," Turkey smiled sheepishly, "it's an educative show. It teaches him Spanish."

"I-if you say so…" Finland sighed.

"Baklava?" Turkey offered.

"Thanks." Finland took one and swallowed it in one bite. He felt how the knafeh[4] stuck all over his throat and tried to cough it; the attempt only make it worse so he tried to swallow it instead, taking a long sip of – much to his horror – the over sweetened tea which Turkey has made for him earlier, in order to clear his throat. It worked this time, and for the first couple of minutes everything got back to normal, but once these two minutes passed, he felt how every single part of his body begins to tremble in sugar-rush, and soon he started to hear this annoying buzz in his head.

Turkey petted his shoulder lightly, smiling in amusement. "You'll get used to it," he said.

"A… ahh…" Finland responded weakly.

"Here," he handed him a glass of water. Finland took it with shaky hands and drank slowly.

The door was suddenly open with a harsh kick that almost had Finland to jump in his sit, and a very annoyed and pissed-looking Morocco entered.

"What's this?" she asked in a quiet – yet, dangerous – tone. If a gaze could kill, then they all would have been murdered by now, Finland thought. He was surprised to see the rest just as anxious as he was.

"What is what?" Turkey asked carefully.

"This!" Morocco was gradually raising up her voice, her face becoming even more red of anger. "You seriously don't notice? The house is all dirty!"

"It's not dirty," Turkey was trying hard to keep his compose.

"_Not dirty?_" Morocco repeated, now screaming. "This place looks like a pigs' hole! It's all dirty and disgusting, so don't tell me you didn't notice, _ya Turk!_"

"M-Morocco, c-calm down…" Turkey said carefully. For the first time since Finland got into this madhouse, he could have heard stress in Turkey's speech and a drop of sweat making its way down to the side of his face; the others were pale and weren't even trying to hide their deadly fear.

Morocco was completely red, her chest moves up and down with every breathe she took, in a way Finland could have seen her… he quickly tossed his head and looked away, blushing. Morocco didn't even seem to care for his existence at all; Turkey's sayings only caused her to frown even more and her anger to arouse. "You won't tell me to calm down, you little bastard!" she barked so harshly, everyone but Turkey jumped on their sits in fear. "How in Allah's sake you expect me to calm down when everything is so dirty and messed like this? You have no brain at all?"

Turkey gasped unnoticeably; Finland could have imagined how his eyes are flinching behind his mask. Turkey clenched his fists against the fabric of his tunic so hard, his joints turned white.

"M-Morocco…" Turkey coughed, and paled when Morocco shot him a glare. He cleared his throat, his face bent down. "I-I'll clean that later, okay?"

"Later?" Morocco screamed. The veins that sizzled in her neck seemed to get too close to explode. "Your house is filthy enough to make a nuclear weapon! I could count on you that you'll clean it just the same as I'd count on Italy to lead a proper meeting! You won't tell me 'later', you one of a bloody bastard –" she pulled off one of her flip-flops and tossed it in the air, clearly attending to hit Turkey's head, "I'll show you what 'later' is!"

"Go, go, go!" Turkey screamed in panic and got up at once and rushed to grab Finland's and Jordan's wrists, pulling them on their feet at once, bending just on time before he got a hit by the flip-flop Morocco threw over him, before he ran out of the house; Syria and Lebanon followed shortly after, Syria is carrying Lebanon in bridal-style much to the smaller man's half-heartedly protest. "Let's go to my house!" he exclaimed as he passed them. Turkey, who meanwhile led go of Finland's and Jordan's hands, nodded. "Sorry," he said, turning to Finland with a sigh, "it's _this time_ of the month. Morocco is… sorta emotional, when it arrives."

"_Turkia_!"

Turkey paled at once and carefully turned around. Armenia walked over them, his eyebrows knitted in annoyance. "We need to talk."

"Haha, too bad, I'm going now!" Turkey laughed anxiously and turned around, grabbing Finland's and Jordan's wrists again as he was walking away over the direction Syria was running to.

Armenia rolled his eyes and quickened his steps, just on time to put a fierce hand on Turkey's shoulder to stop him in his place. Turkey emitted a silent gasp and paled again, cold sweat clustered in his temples. "I said, we need to talk."

"We can talk in another time!" Turkey turned around again, looking down at Armenia with a scorned smile.

Armenia raised an eyebrow. "You didn't wait when you were trying to slaughter me," he muttered and narrowed his eyes in anger. "You never apologised about that neither."

"What the hell it has to do with the world?"

Armenia shot him a glare, "a lot."

"Look, Armenia. I'd _really_ love to talk to you –" Finland could tell Turkey was rolling his eyes behind his mask, "– but Morocco is in _this time_ of the month, and I really don't want to be here when she'll go out."

"She's in your house?" Armenia's eyes lightened up at once.

"Don't you dare, you little shit…"

"Or else?" Armenia snorted. "You'll try to strangle me in my sleep again?"

"I –" Turkey exclaimed, his face completely losing their colour. "I never tried to strangle you in your sleep!"

"Right. You tried to slit my throat…"

"You fucking little liar…"

"That's about time you'll start to face the truth, _Turkia_," Armenia crossed his arms.

"You little piece of crap…"

"Yeah, whatever you say," Armenia lit himself a cigarette nonchalantly, "at least _I_ don't have to face with my past."

"What past I'm facing against?" Turkey's face reddened in anger. "I didn't do anything to you, or your people!"

"Yeah, if a Genocide is 'nothing'…" Armenia took a long inhale.

"It was a misunderstanding!"

"A perfectly organised one," he exhaled.

"You're getting things out of context!" Turkey paled again, and exclaimed in an almost lost tone.

"If that what's make you feel better, turkey," Armenia muttered bitterly and examined his cigarette with a melancholic expression.

"How did you just call –" Turkey started, but then sighed deeply, "ah, forget it. Is that all you wanted to say?"

"No."

"Well?"

Armenia took himself a few minutes before he responded; Finland couldn't miss the dull spark of joy in Armenia's eyes, to Turkey's tense. Finally, Armenia exhaled slowly and threw his finished cigarette to the ground, putting it out with his heel. "Nothing."

Turkey forced himself a smile. "You told me that we need to talk. So you better talk, before I'll get your head off…"

"You see?" Armenia turned his face to the irritated-looking Jordan and shocked-looking Finland, raising an eyebrow. "And that man later comes and tells you, he didn't do anything."

"Okay, you know what, Armenia? Go fuck yourself," Turkey snapped and again grabbed Finland's and Jordan's hands, dragging them along.

"Yes, run away from the truth! That's what you've been doing for the past century, anyway," Armenia called after him monotony.

Turkey didn't stop until they reached Syria's house. He immediately led go of the other men's hands and was panting heavily, but looked satisfied. Without saying anything, he just slipped his hands over his shirt to sweep away imaginary dust and got into the house; tugging Finland's sleeve, Jordan dragged him inside.

He wasn't sure why, but he didn't expect Syria's house to be that big, neither to be decorated so cleverly. He didn't notice, his mouth was slightly open in amazement, until he was about to thank Turkey for the glass of tea the other was offering him once they all turned to sit on modern sofas around a dark coffee table, which Finland recognised as one of Sweden's designs.

It felt like home.

"Your house looks… cosy," Finland stated.

Syria smirked. "With this cute-ass –" he grabbed Lebanon's elbow and pulled him close, wrapping his arm around the shorter's waist possessively, "– to clean this place every week, I wouldn't expect else wise." Blushing, Lebanon frowned and scouted closer to Syria.

Turkey and Jordan already settled themselves on the sofas around the coffee-table, as if they were at home.

Finland flashed his eyes open when that thought crossed his mind. They _felt_ as if they were home. They felt welcome to a level, they didn't wait to their host to invite them to sit, nor to lit up a hookah, as Jordan just did. Turkey didn't have to wait for the host to make them drinks – he did it. Syria flopped into one of the chairs, tugging Lebanon to sit on his lap, and was looking at Finland in confuse. Finland didn't need anyone to tell, what he was thinking.

He wasn't used for such hospitality at all. However, there was something so comfortable about this, placating almost, in a place so far away from his home. He couldn't realise how much he was yearning for it for all these years, even without knowing it existed – a real solidarity of one's family.

He sat down next to Syria, who shooed Lebanon to get up and bring them some hummus he had made. "The best in the whole area," Syria added with a smug smirk.

Lebanon returned after a while, with a large bowl of hummus and some pitas, putting them all on table.

Finland stared at the dish. It was served in almost every meal, but even then, it was a side dish which he preferred to stay away from, trying not to think about its existence.

But now that seemingly porridge-like… _thing_… was placed right in front him in its full glory.

Without waiting for any invitation, Turkey sliced a pita and deepen it right inside the oily heart of the dish, immersing it with a thick layer of that oily and spicy cream which he brought into his mouth with a smug smile and chewed allowed, making much of pleasured voices.

The others suit followed and partook themselves with the dish.

"Why aren't you trying this?" Jordan, who sat next to Finland, asked. Finland looked back at him and just smiled awkwardly in respond. Jordan shrugged, "your lose. It's pretty good."

"Just 'good'? It's divine!" Turkey exclaimed, not even caring to swallow first. "That's the best hummus you'll ever find!"

"Yeah, I'm this awesome," Lebanon smirked.

"He's also awesome in other things, if you know what I mean," Syria winked and petted Lebanon's bottom while the younger got up to take himself another slice of pita, making him shriek and almost jump in his place. Syria laughed out aloud and grabbed him by his waists, pulling him to his lap.

"You really _must_ try this, Finland," Turkey confirmed, "it's like a small piece of heaven lied in your plate! It's so soft, so refined and velvety, but when you put it in your mouth…" Turkey emitted such a voice, which Finland was first mistaken as a moan.

Or at least, that is what he wanted to believe.

He shook his head and smiled awkwardly, "m-maybe later."

"Later? This precious baby should be eaten when still fresh!"

_Did he just call a food 'baby'?_

Finland shook his head, "I-I'm not very hungry, actually…"

Syria raised an eyebrow. "You don't have to be hungry to eat hummus," he said, "like you don't have to be thirsty, to drink coffee."

"I-I feel like puking…" Finland mumbled. The rest stared at him for a few moments and shrugged.

Finland remained quiet for the rest of the time, and just stared blankly on the open space, not minding to follow the conversation they held. Why doesn't he try this dish? It looked odd, no doubt, and maybe he _is_ missing a lot by refusing to taste it despite their really kind offer. It wasn't just the dish alone; they all did so much for him during the last week – even more than he would have done for them, if the situation was different, maybe. He felt discomfort. Seemingly, he has no reason to feel that way; however, everything just felt like too much for him.

His thoughts cut with a heavy hand that tapped his shoulder. "You're ready?"

"U-uh?" Finland jumped and looked around.

Turkey smiled at him and removed his hand, "Morocco's probably gone by now, so we're getting back. Unless you want to stay?"

"N-no. That's fine," Finland got up.

Turkey smirked and got up himself. "You're coming, too?" he turned to Syria, who nodded and groped Lebanon's bottom to get him up, laughing at the shriek he emitted. Jordan was already on his feet and cleaned the very last remains of the hummus off the plate, much to Turkey's discontented gaze.

"Don't get the wrong impression," Turkey said once they were on the street again. Finland looked at him in confuse, and he continued, "I mean, our response about Morocco. She's the greatest dude and we all love her, but she's just… well, she tends to get pretty…" Turkey paused for a few moments, thinking. "…_sensitive_… during _this_ time of the month."

"Nah. Don't listen to him. She's a nutcase," Lebanon snorted.

"Now you're just muddying her name, Lebanon…"

"No, no, no, you're just beautifying it, _ya Turk_. You asked us to be honest with Finn, and beautifying things is like lying. No," he looked over Finland, "don't believe him, Morocco's like that even when she's not having this… you know," he shrugged.

Turkey sighed, "she's a woman, you know chicks are usually emotional…"

"There's a difference between being emotional to just insane, _ya Turk_," Syria interrupted, "take the Emirates for example. When she's having, you know –" he shrugged, "– does _she_ burst into someone else's place and starts yelling at them? No, she goes for a shopping."

Jordan frowned, "I think you have a mistake."

"_Shu_ mistake?" Lebanon raised an eyebrow.

"Emirates doesn't have this yet, she's too young. You're mistaking it with her urge for shopping."

"It happens to her on same time every month."

"She follows the special sales."

"Ah." Lebanon nodded thoughtfully. "Weeell… Kuwait has it for sure, but she still doesn't go all mad."

"When was the last time you've seen her around when she got it?" Turkey asked doubtfully. "She goes on a vacation before it comes. But why you go so far? You know how Palestine is like, when she gets it."

"Now that's stupid," Syria frowned. "If Emirates doesn't have that yet, same goes for Palestine."

Turkey tsked, "what you're talking about? Palestine is older than _Kuwait_."

"Yeah, but she says that the Zionist puts things in her food," Syria said.

"Oh, I get it. She _says_ that Israil puts things in her food. In this rate, I can _say_ Israil puts things in my water."

"She does?" Syria jumped and turned to Turkey. Finland wasn't sure, whether his expression was shocked or excited. Without waiting for an answer, Syria laughed, "I _knew_ this bitch is up to something! Her next step would be using nuclear on us all and take over the world!"

"I was cynical," Turkey said blankly.

Syria waved his hand, "what do you know! You're _friends_ with this lands-stealer!"

Turkey snorted, "you were about making peace with her not too long ago."

"Yes, but that bitch isn't ready to give _my_ part of her garden back! You were there, you heard it yourself!"

"That's your problem," Turkey shrugged. "Besides, it was your fault. You were trying to take over her place back then."

"But she gave Sinai back to Egypt!"

"And got stuck with Palestine.[5]"

Syria looked at him in shock. Lebanon turned his face from Syria to Turkey and repeated, then emitted an amazed whistle. "She totally ate your brain, _ya Turk_. It's probably the water."

"There's nothing in my water!" Turkey exclaimed in frustration.

"But you said yourself, the Zionist puts something in them!" Lebanon exclaimed back.

"I was _cynical_, Lebanon!"

"Go figure if it ain't true!" Lebanon was hysteric.

Syria smirked. "You're pretty emotional, Lebanon. You're sure, you don't have… you know…"

"Oh, shut u –– aaaah!" the smaller's voice hitched up with the moan, making Turkey, Syria and Jordan laugh loudly. Syria kept laughing while pulling his hand away.

"Internal politics," Jordan responded the horrified, lost face Finland turned to him. "If you want to keep your sanity, don't try to understand it."

Finland nodded quickly, unable to make a sound.

"Hey, sweetie."

Finland tensed at once, when a heavy hand was placed around his shoulders and pulled him close to a well-built body. He blinked for a second before he turned his face.

A rather tiny man – just about a centimetre or so taller than him – was grinning at him wide. He had a dark skin, black eyes, a short, curly black hair and a thick moustache; he was very young and wore a pair of jeans and t-shirt, a black-and-white kaffiya was wrapped around his neck loosingly. Finland was assured he never saw this man before, and by the way the others were looking at him, it seemed that neither do them. It didn't take him too long to realise, it was an average human being.

That human grinned even wider when Finland's face turned to his'. "Aren't you hot, with all these clothes covering you?" he didn't even finish the sentence, when his hand started to slowly pull away his jacket, that Turkey suggested him to wear whenever he goes out, to protect his skin from the sun.

Finland wasn't even noticing, he was about to punch that guy right into his face; he realised he did so from the first place only after he has seen him crushed on ground with a bleeding nose. Finland emitted a yelp and hurried to get on his knees, next to the unconscious guy.

"I-I didn't mean…" he mumbled, "it was a reflex…"

The other men remained quiet, and it has been a few seconds they only stared down at that guy, nodding in impression, before Syria spoke up. "Dude… you just knocked this man down. It's quite impressive."

"But I didn't mea –" Finland started, quickly stopping himself and just blinked in confuse. "I-impressive?"

Syria nodded. "Wouldn't expect that, from such a fragile man like you."

Finland blushed slightly and smiled awkwardly. Then he sighed.

"Let's go, shall we?" Turkey said, touching Finland's shoulder.

"B-but what about this guy?" he looked down. The lad still seemed unconscious, and Finland couldn't miss his somewhat hilarious face, with the silly smile he was still wearing and the small puddle of saliva on ground next to his mouth.

Lebanon flailed his hand, "he'll be fine."

Finland sighed and followed them as they walked away – mindful not to step on the unconscious guy's numb body – back to Turkey's house.

The place was cleaner than ever, and just _shone_ in some parts. Finland never thought, it's ever possible.

Much to his surprise, Cyprus was sitting on the very place as before, with a tray that he laid on his crossed legs and a half-finished burger in his hand, wrapped neatly with a blotting paper. He was also wearing new clothes and his hair still wet of the shower he was probably having a short while ago. He was still watching Dora, and didn't bother to look over when they entered. Finland couldn't resist thinking of Sealand, and imagine his most likely panicked reaction, if he were to this very situation.

"Morocco made you this?" Lebanon asked.

"Yup," Cyprus nodded, his eyes still locked over the screen. "'Said I'm a poor, starved child. How could you do this to me, _baba_."

Turkey chuckled. "I'm such a shitty father, _oğul_."

Syria and Lebanon already settled themselves on the couches; Jordan was working on lighting the hookah. Turkey approached to pet Cyprus' head before he joined them.

Lebanon turned again to Cyprus. "Morocco's still here?"

Cyprus took a bite of his burger and chewed slowly, much to the other's resentment. "She's cleaning the basement," he said eventually.

"She's still mad?"

"Dunno what you're talking about. Morocco is sweet."

"See? I told you," Turkey shrugged, and then turned to Finland, "you want something to eat? You look dead."

"O-oh?" Finland blinked, then tossed his head and tried to smile, "n-no, thanks."

"You're sure? You seem sick."

"No, I'm fine, thanks."

"I'm going to get you something," Turkey got up, and walked into the kitchen before Finland got the time to protest. He sighed, and smiled weakly at Lebanon, who sat next to him.

"The map is over there, you moron!" Cyprus screamed suddenly enough, to make Finland jump on his sit. "If you can't see it, go get yourself glasses! Don't ask _me_ for that!"

"C-Cyprus?" Finland hesitantly asked, his voice is still a bit louder than a whisper but enough for Cyprus to hear. "I-if that series annoys you this much, why you insist watching it?"

The boy turned to Finland with calmed expression. "It teaches me Spanish," he said.

"I-it does?" Finland smiled awkwardly.

Cyprus nodded. "You want to hear me saying something?"

"S-sure!"

"_Dora es una idiota con retraso. Poder para el proletariado!_" Cyprus exclaimed the last sentence, smirking wide.

"W-what did you just say?"

"Dora teaches me the Spanish language," Cyprus said, his smirk became somewhat darker.

"Right," Finland sighed.

"Here," Turkey popped up next to him, handing him a baklava.

"I-I'm fine, really…"

"Take it, anyway," Turkey put the seemingly-hairy candy in his hand, "it will make you feel better, you'll see."

He joined the rest right away, leaving Finland to keep standing in the middle of the room with that piece of food in his hand.

He sighed deeply, when he took a bite of the baklava. It wasn't as sweet as usually, and it tasted wonderful. Just when he turned to thank Turkey to join them himself, Morocco appeared, her expression was even more intimidating than earlier.

"You're here again?" she beamed at Turkey, who immediately turned around, his face as pale as a whitewash. "You have no shame at all, do you? Getting your house so dirty, and then come to sully it again after I made you a favour cleaning it!"

"I-it's not what you think!" Turkey tried hard, it seemed, but couldn't control the unstableness of his voice. "I-I appreciate your efforts for…"

"_Don't you dare to sell me these flowery words of you, mister!_" Morocco screamed; Cyprus was the only one, who didn't begin to shiver, "_not as long as your dirty feet are all over this clean floor!_"

That was it. Finland could hear her screaming, but didn't care to listen to her speech. He didn't care about anything for any longer. Suddenly, all strength that held him throughout the last week disappeared, leaving him alone and exposed. A deadly fear gnawed its way through his body – teasing, exhausting, seizing at his poor little heart.

"I can't take it anymore!" he screamed hopelessly, and before anyone could say anything he turned over his heels and stormed outside, not even caring to close the door behind him.

The fresh air was enough to ease him, even if in just a tad bit. He didn't mean to burst out like that; he didn't mean his awkward reaction, didn't mean his wary attitude, didn't mean his pre-judge – but he didn't mean to take a part of this whole thing either. He was never truly suffering by this time, and he couldn't deny the moments he enjoyed like he never did in his life, but now it was – like _they_ always say – the straw that broke the camel's back.

Without even notice where his feet took him, he found himself n front of Yemen's house.

Unlike Turkey's, Syria's and even Israel's house, the place looked more like an oasis rather than a flourish garden. He spotted the tree everyone mentioned at least once, with Yemen's hunched figure sitting on a bench beneath, accompanied by Oman and Saudia.

Oman was the first to see him. He smiled and waved, calling, "hey, Finland! Come and join us."

Finland forced on himself a slight smile and stepped into the yard, greeted by Oman with a gentle hug and a pet on the shoulder; Saudia, whom he was about to sit next to, shook his hand with a warm smile. Just before he got to sit, Yemen pulled him into a crushing hug, nuzzling against the crook of his neck.

"_Ahlan, ahlan!_" he exclaimed. "Welcome to my house! Do you want anything to eat? Drink?"

"N-no, thanks. I just ate."

"Ah! You ate at Turkey, not at Yemen. I'll get something to your stomach."

Finland sighed. "Thanks."

Yemen let go of him and headed straight. Oman got to his feet and hurried to grab his shoulders, "f-father! You're going to the wrong direction! Here you go," he turned him around, loosing his grip as Yemen begun to walk. He sighed again and returned to sit, taking a deep inhale of the hookah standing right in front of them, on a tiny stool.

"Are you alright?" Saudia asked, examining him from the corner of his eyes.

Finland paused. "I… am not sure," he admitted.

"What is it, then?"

Finland hesitated. He had nothing good to say, and he didn't want to insult Saudia or Oman in any way by saying bad things about her family members. Yet, there was something bolstering in the mild way Saudia was looking at him.

"I don't think, I can take it anymore," he said. "It's all just getting way too much for me."

"That's what we thought, when the Huns attacked us!" Yemen cried from the other side of the yard. Oman facepalmed; no one said a word when Yemen made his way back to the bench, a single slipper in his hand.

"We were never been attacked by the Huns, father…" Oman commented. Yemen flailed his hand, "we were, we were! It was before you were born, _ya ibni_. So, when the Scythes first appeared, we thought it's the end of the world! Things got really nasty back then, even Gandhi thought it was hopeless. You know how we defeated those Huns, Finland?"

"H-how?" Finland wasn't quite following the man's sayings, and blushed slightly when he was being referred to, unsure whether he imagined that Yemen was asking him a question or really was.

"By the power of will, of course," Yemen smiled wide. "We believed in ourselves and got them all the way back to Sahara!"

"That's good." Finland tried to smile; he looked just as he was punched in the face.

"Yes. All you need is some fate in yourself, Finland. Khat?" the man was holding a single leaf.

"No, thanks."

The rest just tossed their heads negatively; Yemen shrugged and put the leaf in his mouth, chewing it.

"Did I tell you, of how we defeated the Huns, Finland?" Yemen asked.

Finland stared at Oman and Saudia in confuse; both shrugged, and he returned his face back to Yemen. "Yes, you did."

"You're sure?"

"Just a few moments ago. Yes."

"So let me tell you how we won the Scythes," Yemen straightened in his sit, settling his palms over the armrests to comfort his position. "It was many years ago, when we still didn't have much here. We were a small force against a whole army of bloodthirsty Huns, who were seeking for our rares and treasures. Needless to say, that we won them."

"So here you are, Finland!" a familiar voice called from somewhere behind him and Finland turned around. Turkey was leaning against the small fence and waved at him. "We were looking for you for quite a while," he said.

"I-I'm sorry…" he mumbled.

"That's fine. Hi, Oman, Saudia! Uncle!" Turkey waved at the other three, who waved back. Then, he returned to Finland, "Morocco went away about an hour ago. You want to come back? Or you wish to stay here a little?"

"I think I'll stay here. I need some quiet…" Finland sighed.

"Of course," Turkey shrugged. "You know the way back. Get back whenever you want."

"Thanks."

"See you," Turkey waved them all one, last time, before he went away.

Finland sighed deeply and closed his eyes, leaning backwards into the soft covers of the folding chair he was sitting on. Yemen continued speaking, oblivious to his surrounding; Oman and Saudia hummed something from time to time, but other than that, there was finally silence he has been yearning for, for a whole week.

_-Fin-_

_Shu_ – what (Arabic)

_Oğul_ – son (Turkish)

_Dora es una idiota con retraso. Poder para el proletariado!_ – Dora is a retarded idiot. Power for the Proletariat! (Spanish)

[1] In the Israeli street, "Penguins" is a fairly popular slang to describe Orthodoxy Jewish men, who insist on wearing black suits, long blazers and brimmed hat, even by the hottest days of the year.

[2] The letter 'p' doesn't exist in Arabic, and therefore they usually pronounce it as 'b', when appeared in foreign words or names.

[3] "Dora the Explorer", of course.

[4] Some sort of paper-thin and sweet noodles, that's used as the basis of many Middle Easterner sweets.

[5] Reference for the 6th Days War, in which – in less than 6 days – the state of Israel doubled its territory in 60%.

**A/N:** I spitted blood to finish this chapter. Honestly, I didn't like the way it turns out from the very beginning, and I rather hate the result. It's still better than keep delaying it, until the writers' block this chapter got me into will over, anyway.

Next chapters are already planned, so there shouldn't be any problem with them. However, it might be taking me a while to write and post them, for I have real life and preceding obligations.

My English is worse than usual, too. :'D


	16. Day 7: Egypt's POV

**A/N: **I'd like to open with a small request, I think I have the right asking for being the author of this story.

For more than once, friends or random readers contacted me and told me, they didn't know I'm also a member of varied forums and communities, as they are. Funny thing, because I didn't know I am.

I do appreciate the increasing popularity that this fic seems to gain, but I won't tolerate _any_ use of my identity – let it be just sending links, or an actual impersonating.

Liking my story, doesn't give anyone a permit to pretend to be me, especially when it reaches a level when they get into low levels of inventing background stories about my personal life or whatever. It hurts, insulting, and wrong.

What angry me the most, this phenomenon runs for a few months already. Just for the record, I'm an almost inactive member of only one, private forum, where accept for the founder (who helps me with WS from almost the very beginning, and invited me to take a part of it) and another member or two, no one else relates me to any fanfic I might or might not write. I _NEVER_ promote my fanfics, so if you do bump into anyone who claims to be me, please, make sure to shut them off.

Thank you.

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 7 – EGYPT'S POV**

For the first time in the last week, Egypt got up without feeling how his nose is about to fell off. The air all around him, was surprisingly warm; for a moment, he thought he was in his very own bed, in his very own home.

The feeling was so nice, he didn't even feel disappointed, when he woke up in the improvised tent, covered by thick wools and furs. Iceland was sleeping by his side; Norway slept next to him, his hand placed loosely on his brother's waist, he himself was tightly embraced by Denmark, who slept next to his other side; Sweden was sleeping by their feet, his own were stretched outside the tent.

Carefully, Egypt stoop up, surprised that he wasn't freezing even after pulling himself outside the blankets. He picked one of them, and – careful not to step on anyone – got outside.

The air was frosty, but the clothes he wore were of dense stitches that kept him warm, and the chillness felt good for a change; a lot like the mornings in his own place.

He took a deep inhale of that fresh air and spread the blanket on ground, smoothing it before he pulled off the slippers he was wearing, and then kneeled for his morning prayer.

He ignored the rush of fabrics of the tents partitions, as he bowed his head to the ground for the last time. "Have you lost something?" he heard the cocky voice behind him, but didn't respond before he finished his prayer and got up, picking the blanket with him.

"No, just praying," he said, folding the blanket.

Denmark laughed. "Ye'r serious? It looked like you're summoning someone to give you some."

Egypt looked at him in confuse for the minute, it took him to get the man's speech; then, his eyes flashed wide in understanding, and he tossed his head. "No, that's how we pray. It's to praise and glorify Allah, to show respect."

Denmark shrugged, "it still looks like you want him to give you some."

Egypt closed his eyes and took a deep breathe, his hands are lifted to the level of his waist; he pulled them down when he exhaled. "Can I ask you, for a little favour, Denmark?"

"Yup!" the blond grinned happily.

"Don't get it all wrong, I know you didn't mean to insult," Egypt started, "but," he smiled leniently, "can you, please, stop making comments about my religion? It hurts my feelings."

Denmarks grin gradually faded, and was replaced by what seemed like a worried face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" he said, his voice unexpectedly low and honest.

Egypt smiled again. "No, no, that's okay. I know you didn't. Just… pay attention from now on, alright?"

"Sure!" he grinned wide again. "Say," he put a hand on his shoulder, "you remember we're goin' fishing today?"

Egypt nodded.

"The rest are still asleep," he snorted. "Can't get it! Why do they have to sleep so much?"

Egypt shrugged.

"I appreciate mornin' fellows like you, though," the larger man petted his shoulder again, "people who're wakin' up before the sun… we used to do this all the time, when we were Vikings, did you know?"

"No."

"Oh, those were good times, back then," Denmark smirked. "Especially when we went fishing, you know? When even the fish were sleeping."

"Yes."

"Have you ever gone fishing?"

"Sure," Egypt raised an eyebrow. "I did it almost every day, in my past. By the Nile."

"Are there whales?" Denmarks eyes lit.

"No. But there are crocodiles…"

"Crocodiles? Gee!" the other exclaimed. "I've never seen a single one before, will you believe that?" he laughed. "You ever caught one?"

"Of course not. They have to be respected."[1]

The blond's face fell. "So, what, you catch fishes only?"

Egypt nodded.

"Oh, well," Denmark shrugged and grinned wide again, "never mind. We still have a whole day to make a tough guy out of ya'." He laughed cheerfully and petted Egypt's shoulder so hard, the latter almost lost his balance.

A blond head peeked itself outside the tent. Norway's frown grew deeper, and he was just about to get back inside, when Denmark grabbed his wrist and pulled him out, into a squashing embrace. "Good morning to you too, Sleeping Beauty!" he laughed aloud and led you. "I just told Egypt about how we used to get up early for fishing, before you all became a bunch of grumbling oldies!"

Norway rolled his eyes. "You also told him how hard you used to snore, when we got back with the fish?"

"I got back before they even threw their rods!" Denmark was looking down at Egypt.

"You never left," Norway raised an eyebrow.

"Don't listen to him, Egypt," Denmark waved a hand, smiling expertly. "I woke up when they were still on their first dream!"

"You slept till noon."

"Says you!"

Egypt sighed and raised his hands. "I believe you both."

"Y-you can't believe the both of us!" Denmark protested, "you should pick a side!"

"Don't. Tell me. To pick a side. _Please_," Egypt closed his eyes, trying to relax. "I have enough of _this_ sort of things."

Norway sighed. "I guess I can't get back to sleep now…"

"Duh! We're going fishing today, you forgot?" Denmark poked his head, receiving a dreadful glare in return. "Gee… what's with that face, Norge?"

"You're annoying."

"See, what I just said? A grumbling oldie!" Denmark tsked, as he turned back to Egypt, who just shrugged. Norway encircled his fingers around his temples, slowly relaxing.

Sweden got out of the tent meanwhile, Iceland following suit not too far after.

"Mornin', 'gypt," Sweden hummed; Iceland motioned his head for greeting.

"Morning."

"Good morning to you two, too!" Denmark grinned. Sweden distorted his face, saying nothing; Iceland ignored him. Denmark pouted theatrically, but it wasn't too long, before he returned to grin wide. "Good! Now, since everyone's up, we can go fishing!"

"If you haven't scared them off yet with your screams," Iceland remarked.

"Neh, they're probably still asleep!"

Iceland rolled his eyes.

"Alright, alright! Let's go now, before it'll be too late!" Denmark exclaimed and rushed into the tent. In a matter of seconds, they could hear the sound of crushes and a stretching yowling. Norway rolled his eyes and got inside.

Iceland sighed again, and turned to Sweden. "I'll go to prepare the boat."

Sweden nodded.

"You'll need some help?" Egypt suggested. Iceland looked at him in surprise, and tossed his head. "No. Thanks, though."

Egypt shrugged and looked over him, as he walked away. Then, he turned to Sweden. "I'll never get the dynamics of your family," he said.

"Eh…"

"That's my point," Egypt sighed and slanted his head. Sweden blushed, his eyes fixed on ground.

Denmark got out of tent with a sheepish smile, followed by an irritated Norwegian, who held a fishing net, bucket and a few rods. He handed the rods to Sweden, and carefully placed the bucket on ground, in order to fix the fishing next, which only a second gaze provided, it was a mess. "I fell," Denmark explained bashfully, to their wondering faces.

"Ah won't 'sk," Sweden muttered with a sigh.

"Okay!" Denmark exclaimed and clapped his hands, a silly smile made its way to his face. "Now that we're all set, let's go!" Without waiting for their answer, he raised a hand and begun to march over the direction, where Iceland headed earlier, like a teacher on some school trip.

**x**

For the first, few minutes, Egypt was stunned; the view, which spread in front of him, was nothing like h has ever seen, or imagined; it was a view taken from a dream – something which was so far away from the mans grasp, and yet, now it was all over him.

The clap of a large hand on his shoulder, brought him back to reality. Denmark offered him one of his huge grins, petting his shoulder lightly. "Welcome to the north, sandman."

"It can't be real…" Egypt gasped.

"You can see it through your very own eyes, don't you?" Norway chuckled and smirked.

Egypt couldn't even bring himself, to reply.

Iceland was glaring over them with bored expression, as he was starting to release a broad boat from the tiny pier. "Do I have to wait for any longer?" he asked, when they turned their faces to him. He sighed, "just get in, I want to finish this soon."

The four responded the call, and joined him; Sweden helped Egypt to get in, an awkward blush painting his face, and once they settled, Iceland released the rope completely and gave the pier a push with the oar he was holding, pulling it into the freezing water as the boat begun to move. "We should be careful," he stated, still looking at him with bored face. "Half of the lake seems to be frozen."

They remained silent when they sailed into the lake, stopping a few metres away from the ice.

Not waiting for any invitation, Denmark threw his rod by the moment they stopped; Norway and Iceland followed suit shortly after. Sweden, who sat next to Egypt, showed him how to use their rods, and remained sitting still to watch the smaller man's movements.

**x**

"I think I got something!"

Denmark stood up and balanced himself, a huge grin spread all over his face, rocking the boat with him.

It's been almost four hours, since they started fishing, and besides a few announces for catching something – all Denmark's – they got nothing. This time appeared to not be any different, as Denmark rolled an empty hook.

"You know," he stated, when he checked the hook in a pity hope, to find any remains for any possibility, something _did_ touch it, "I never realised how sharp that shit is." He turned his face back to the others. "Do you think, the fish feel any pain, when they get into it?"

"Of course not," Norway said. "Fish are stupid, they wouldn't notice."

"As delicate as ever, Norge," Denmark smirked and threw his rod back into the water.

Sweden cleared his throat, slight blush paints his face. "Ya' said," he minced, turning to Egypt, "ye' went 'n fishin' 'ften."

"Yes."

"'t was a ma'n p'rt of ye'r l'fe?"

"Pretty much. Yes." Egypt turned on his sit, resting the rod carefully against the side of the boat, so he could look directly on them. "The Nile is like the main vein of my body. My people have always been depended on it. Many of my old beliefs, were related to it, too."

"Lik' wh't?"

Egypt narrowed his eyes in thoughts. "Death has been taking the main stand in my old faith," he started. "Those faiths weren't but rituals around it. You must know that, to understand it all better. But it wasn't a bad thing, of course," he hurried to state, when he noticed Denmark was about to speak. "Everyone dies eventually, it's a natural event of every humans life. What's really important is the afterlife; what we do in this world, is preparing ourselves to the eternal life."

"You believe in afterlife?" Norway asked.

"Yes."

"Go on, please."

Egypt shrunk his eyes again. "I can relate some tradition to our situation," he said after a while, with a mischievous small smirk. "According to my old faith, when a human dies, he – or she – find themselves facing Anubis, the God of death. This stand takes place on a boat, which sails upon the Nile.

"Anubis held a scale. In one side of the scale, there was a feather; on the other side, there was the human's heart.

"The human was allowed for the afterlife, only if they were innocent. While the feather presents justice, the heart presents the human's soul. If the human was innocent, then the both sides of the scale were equal, and the human was ready to move on; however, if the heart was heavier, that meant the human was a liar, and therefore, wasn't allowed for the afterworld. In this case, he was thrown into the Nile, and was eaten by Ammit – a demon with the head of a crocodile, the shoulders of a lion and the rump of a hippopotamus."

"That's harsh," Denmark stated.

"Yes, but everyone should be paid for their deeds, whether they were good or bad," Egypt shrugged.

"That's also a part of your old faith?"

"No, that's just how things are like in my place."

"In your country, you mean?" Iceland interrupted.

"In Middle East in general," he said. "It's a common sense there – one did something, and will be repaid equally to what he, or she, has done."

"What – if someone killed someone else, he'll be killed?" Denmark raised an eyebrow doubtfully.

Egypt nodded calmly.

"W-what?" Denmark shouted. "That's insane..!"

Egypt raised an eyebrow, obviously surprised by his reaction. "So you think it's fine to kill someone to start with?"

Denmark blushed. "We did it when we were Vikings, but, it was a different era!" he ended the sentence with a protesting exclaim. "Everyone did this! B-besides, you guys are killing dozens of people now, with all those terrorists of yours..!"

Egypt felt, as if he was punched in his stomach by sudden. He could tolerate ignorance about his religion, but this inclusion hurts. He took a deep breathe and exhaled slowly, not daring to respond before he felt calm enough.

"Like I told you, on the other day," he said slowly, to keep his voice as calm as he can, "radicals could be found anywhere, and you shouldn't see them as the display of an entire population. Which is, unfortunately, what you Westerners do all the time." He sighed. He didn't mean his words to turn like that, but he could already feel relieved for revealing them. "You know nothing about how things are going on, only about what the media shows, and you're just judging us without actually know the real facts. How'd you expect me to respect you and your culture, when you're not even trying to understand mine?"

Even in his breaking point, Egypt got to keep on a guarded tone. It seemed, the others could appreciate that: although they were too astounded, to say anything, Egypt could tell they have got his point. He sighed and continued, "look, I ain't going to judge your past; you asked me, to tell you something about my old faith, which is what I did. I wasn't a saint in _my_ past either, alright? As long as we have the chance, we can still grant that. Of course, nothing can grant things you can't have back, but even if you hurt or killed anyone in your past, it doesn't mean, you're going to get hit by a divine lightening and go to hell. You get it now?"

Hesitated, Sweden nodded. The others did the same shortly after.

Egypt smiled. "Can we open a new page now?"

Sweden nodded.

"Good."

If earlier he felt relief for finally saying something that burdened him, now he finally felt comfortable and belong.

A thrilled shriek cut the silence, and within a moment after, the boat begun to rock dangerously; feeling the nausea coming on, Egypt flattened himself on ground, covering his head. He didn't dare changing his position, but only when the surface calmed; and when he lifted his head again, _he_ almost emitted a very same scream, when he saw what seemed like a spirit of a huge, green, disgusting creature, floating right next to them.

"That's just my troll," Norway said nonchalant, raising and eyebrow in amusement to Egypt's odd behave. "What is it?" he turned to said creature, who pointed at the tiny hook, stuck on his upper lip. Norway frowned, "that's it? You can take it off yourself."

The troll hummed something in return, which Egypt couldn't – and didn't quite want – to hear, and disappeared within a minute or two. Norway rolled his eyes, when a few more cries were heard, and casually threw his rod again, unaffected by the situation.

It was Denmark who cut the long silence with a chuckle. He smiled wide, to the dead glares everyone hung on him, and said, "I was just thinking about some funny story I've heard."

"We probably don't want to hear," Iceland snapped, turning his head back to the lake.

"No, no. 't's about fishing," the larger man turned his body towards the rest; the boat rocked mercilessly. "There was this fisherman, an amateur mechanic, who got pissed once, for not getting to catch much fishes. That guy took some cable from his car, and put it in water, to make the fish electrocuted; just when he did, he fall off and electrocuted to his death. That's what I call, sleepin' with the fish!" the man laughed aloud, ignorant to the shocked stares, everyone hung on him.

"The reason we're not getting any fish today is your loud mouth, that smuggles the fishes," Norway said slowly, as if speaking to a baby.

"Neh, it's Sweden's face that scares the shit out of them. Isn't it, Sve?" Still laughing, he nudged the taller's hand, pouting when the latter responded with a dead glare, to which even Egypt begun to shudder.

"They can't see his face, you moron," Iceland frowned in annoyance.

"So, they can't hear my voice either!"

"_Japan_ could hear your voice!"

"'t's probably the best sound he'd ever hear!"

"Bet it is!"

"I know you're jealous, Ice, but that's not a reason to be so mean! Gee!" he tsked.

"I'm just telling you the truth."

Denmark scouted again, to lean forwards Norway, wrapping a hand around his shoulder. "When did he become so mean? He was such a sweet child…"

"I can hear you!" Iceland yelled, his face turning red.

"It's an adults' conversation!" Denmark yelled back, before he turned his face back to Norway. "C'mon… say something. He's like our baby, after all…"

"Leave me alone."

He pouted. "So it's your grumpy face that makes the fish flee away!"

"Shut up."

"I bet Norway and I could've done much better, if you weren't around!" Iceland frowned.

"Oh, yeah? I bet me and Sve could kick you in return!" Denmark snapped, and now wrapped a hand around Sweden's shoulders; the latter watched him looked bothered, yet, remained silent.

"Maybe Sweden alone could do that, but you'll probably get to screw it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"It's a bet, then, Ice!" Denmark exclaimed, an enormous smile crossing his face. "Me and Sve, against you and Norge! Losers would be our servants for the rest of the day. Don't worry, Ice," he snickered at the disturbed-looking boy, "you'd look terrific in a maid dress."

His glance fall on Egypt, who sat in silence and was about to throw his rod. "You can join Nor and Ice, to make the bet fair," Denmark said, smirking.

"I don't quite feel like taking a part of a bet right now," Egypt said.

"Oh, alright! You can be the judge, then!" Denmark clapped his hands, turning his head to the others. "Let's get back to the shore, there's another boat there that we can use. You wouldn't mind waiting on shore, would'ya, Egypt?"

"Not at all."

**x**

They sailed back to the shore. Egypt felt odd as soon as the boat was close enough to ground, relieved somewhat. He settled himself comfortably on a flat stone and waved to the others, when they made their way back into the deep waters.

Those guys were so much different than he thought at start, he admitted. They were a lot nicer, a lot more welcoming, than he would have expected. In fact, they were easy to like – true, they were quiet and restrained, but once they got used to his presence, they showed him so much of themselves that he couldn't miss the similarities to his own family: awkward people, who close themselves to the outer world and get everyone a hostile impression, while under the surface, it is the total opposite. He would tell them once he found the chance.

Time passed slowly. Egypt exploited the waiting, for taking a quick nap on the soft grass, enjoying the spurring, chill breeze, striking at his face.

Trampled steps and unclear voices, got him back into the real world. The four were already on bank, when he bothered to get up slowly.

Sweden and Denmark were the first to approach, each of them held two, huge salmons; Norway and Iceland were joining them shortly after, each held a bucket full of sardines and varied of other, small fishes.

"It's clear, who've won," Denmark stated, smirking when he glanced at the buckets.

Iceland raised an eyebrow. "You feel alright?"

"Oh?"

"You seem to accept your loss."

"'Lose'?" the taller man chuckled. "Ye'r serious, Ice? Me and Sve left you faaaar way behind!"

"You barely fish anything."

"Fingerlings don't count!"

"Who said they don't?" Norway interrupted with a frown. "You never stated what _kind_ of fish we should catch; we only talked about the amount, not size."

Denmark tsked, "we haven't talked about amount either! 'Sides, if you take all _your_ fishes together, they weight less than what we caught!"

"We caught more fish. The bet wasn't about amount, or size, it was about who scares the fish," though he sprayed impatiently, Norway spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child. "It doesn't matter, we caught smaller fish; we still caught more than you two did, means, we won."

"Sardines don't count! It's easier to catch them," Denmark pouted. Iceland frowned in return, "not as much as just two fish, no matter how big they are."

"So it's all about the size, eh?" a sly, smug smirk, slowly spread on the Danes face.

"Oh, shut up!" Iceland snapped.

"Eh, Eg'pt?"

Sweden cleared his throat. Egypt, who didn't pay attention to any of their saying, ripped his eyes from the nothing in horizon he was staying at, turning them to the awkward Swede, who stared at him with lost face. "Yeah?"

"Ye'r the j'dge."

All eyes fixed on the smaller figure. He hated being in a situation like this; Allah knows, how often he _has_ to deal with such crap. Not wanting to spend any more time, Egypt said, "oh, it's a draw."

Iceland paled. "W-what…"

"Draw," he started losing his patience; always did, when it comes to this sensitive issue.

"I-it can't be draw!" Denmark interrupted. "We had a bet, someone _has_ to lose!"

"Am I the judge?"

"Yeah."

"And I'm the one to set the results?"

"Y-yeah…"

"So it's a draw."

He knew, they wouldn't argue, and felt relieved; moreover – if they knew, what the stage itself makes him feel, they probably wouldn't make this stupid bet in first place; those guys were too considerating. Or just unwilling to start and argue, he didn't care.

"Let's go mak' us br'kfast," Sweden screeched. Egypt nodded and hurried to stand.

"Ah hav' a rec'pe for q'ick field cookin'. Ye' wanna try?" the man was speaking directly to him. Egypt nodded, "I'd like that."

Sweden nodded himself without saying a word, took the fish from Denmark's hand and threw them, along with the two he caught, over his back, ignoring the wailing protest he drew. The taller motivated at Norway and Iceland, who got up and followed him.

They put everything carefully on the ground, and started cleaning the fish while Egypt volunteered to pick some wood, and Denmark went to bring the pots they'll need, before joining them with the cleaning. Egypt watched them through this time, seeking for all those small gestures they had between them. They were the meaning for this whole thing, he thought, and wondered if Finland understood it, too.

**x**

Dedicated to his word, the food was indeed ready within less than half an hour. Egypt stared in horror at his plate, peeking miserably from underneath the gigantic slice. To tell by a quick glance around, no one else seemed to worry about it.

"_Aptit_," Sweden grunted, and took a large bite of his fish. Much to his horror, the others did the same.

Egypt took a small bite and chewed. It was good, but there was no way, he could finish this; there was a limit, for how much his stomach can contain.

The thought came into reality few minutes after, when he barely finished a half and already felt full; the others were already on their second plate. To think, he really thought at start, it's meant to fill them for the rest of the day; they were just enjoying their dish, and seemed ready to eat more, if they only wished. He started feeling nausea coming on and moved his plate away, as politely as he could effort.

By the time they finished and cleaned everything, it was noon. Sleepy by the great food, Egypt felt the absence of a hookah, or at least a glass of coffee. He laid backwards, nesting his head on his elbows. Just as if reading his thought, Norway took a sit next to him, a thermos in his hand. "You want some coffee?"

"Please."

No – it wasn't anything he would call "coffee", though it _was_ the best attempt to get the taste that he tried, and he could even accept that. Norway poured himself a cup and drank it quickly, making Egypt wonder if it really is a matter of culture there, or just a habit.

"Hey." Denmark sat between them, smiling wide. "What do you call a fish with no eyes?"

"Blind?"

"F'sh."

"Oh… ah. I wouldn't think about this. Nice one," Egypt laughed along; Norway rolled his eyes.

No one said anything for the past hour; it was nice at start, that they could enjoy nature without any bothering, but the silence started feeling fake.

"Can you recall other, Viking stories?" Egypt asked, making sure to look straight into Swedens eyes, knowing he would feel obligated to respond.

"N'. 't's ye'r t'rn now."

"Sorry?"

Sweden blinked. It seemed like he lost his confidence, but it was only a second before he cleared his throat and repeated, "ye'r t'rn, to tell 's a story."

Egypt narrowed his eyes. "There is one…" he dragged the sound, and stopped for thinking. Then, the idea came up to his mind, almost jumping him in his sit, "there's a tale, I started telling Sealand before bedtime. I can tell you, to the part I stopped with Sealand, so we can continue together from tomorrow and on."

"Sounds fine to me," Iceland shrugged; Norway nodded in agreement, and Denmark clapped his hands excitedly. Sweden nodded. "That's a good 'dea."

Egypt organised the scattered group, so they were sitting in a circle, the soft wind bringing the warmth of fire to everyone; Egypt made everyone strong tea, putting in a package of mint leaves. Once everyone settled themselves, he began telling them the first tale of the story of Scheherazade.

He was surprised, by they actually paid some attention to the story, the same way Sealand did; their interest was honest, it didn't escape his mind. Their whole lives are like a tale – a quick look at those remarkable views, was enough to tell that – and maybe, that explained their introverted nature, their caution of the world outsides that might ruin their own. Egypt felt how the affection gnawed onto him, just barely resisting the urge to hug them.

_Yes, those guys are__ quite cool._

_-Fin-_

A huge thanks for the amazing **Elise**, for BETAing this chapter! 3

[1] in Ancient Egypt, the crocodile was a symbol for long life, and therefore crocodiles were favoured and sacred.


	17. Day 8: Finland's POV Part I

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 8 – FINLAND'S POV**

**PART I**

"Father, I beg…"

"No, no, _ya ibni_, you're missing the moral of the story! I was very hungry and tired then, and the Mongols surrounded us from everywhere! This army was doubled than ours, and they even sent paratroopers! It was a misery, _ya ibni_…" Yemen tsked, "_ya Allah…_ I'm telling you, _ya ibni_, we crushed them like bugs!"

"Father…"

The voice was almost sobbing.

"…and we got our independence eventually. We told the Turks, 'go away!', and they did. _Walla,_ _ya ibni_, those were the good days. I remember, when I was young, I got stuck all alone in the market, without a single coin in my pocket, and I wore nothing but a meagre robe around me…"

Oman facepalmed. The poor man was exhausted – he was pale, and his eyes quivered over the black circles and furrows of tiredness. He was shaking, his legs barely handle his body mass, and he was _desperate_. It was beyond Finlands comprehence, he didn't even try to understand it, no matter how strong the pain he felt for him, was like.

Yemen, from the other hand, was as freshy as usual, while he was talking to a tree.

"I give up," Oman sighed and flopped back onto a chair, next to Finland. His body was numb, his lower lip protruded out like he was about to cry; his whole appearance, resembled a lost child, more than anything else. It was touching. Yemen, of course, was oblivious to the situation, and remained to talk to the tree.

"Oh… did we wake you?" Oman asked worriedly, once he noticed Finland was awake. The taller man responded with an awkward smile, and hurried to shake his head as soon as he understood the question. "D-don't worry, I woke up naturally… it's probably pretty late by now, isn't it?" he laughed sheepishly, relieved somehow when he noticed how Oman body relaxed, how his face regained their usual colour. He smiled back, "it's barely past 6…"

Finland laughed again. He didn't felt embarrassed, and yet, he felt how his face were burning in unexplaint blush. "I-I see! W-well, always nice to start the morning early, isn't it!"

Oman stared at him in confuse, slowly smiling back.

However, his worried expression returned shortly after, as he looked better at the Finn face. "You… you're alright, Finland?"

"Y-yes. W-why you ask?"

"J-just wondering…" he sighed miserably. No – life weren't easy for this man, who closed his eyes now and led himself sink backwards.

Saudia came out from the house, with three cups of coffee. He blushed, when their eyes met. "I thought you were asleep," he said quietly. "I'll go make you something to drink…"

"N-no need!" _Why his face so warm? _"I'll make myself something, maybe later."

Saudia nodded and handed Oman his glass; the latter took it like a precious treasure, and tossed his head when Saudia motivated at his father questioningly. "You can try, though."

"Coffee, _āma_," the man was standing next to Yemen, stretching his hand slightly, forcing the glass into his sight.

"Ah! _Szhukran, ya habibi_!" Yemen turned his body to the other and took the glass, sipped before he took a sit, and pulled Saudias sleeve so he was sitting next to him. "We were four men, stuck in the desert – you hear me? We didn't even have any food or water, just an old camel. We were so tired, and we rode on it in turns. It was so hard then, _ya habibi_, but we were fortunate, the horse was loyal, and also very smart! He could have smell oasis from kilometres, and so he did!"

Saudia offered him a shy smile and concentrated at his coffee, nodding from time to time as Yemen continued to talk. "Everything's alright?" he whispered, looking at Finland behind his glass. Finland nodded, smiling awkwardly; his face still burnt for no reason. Maybe, it was just the heat? Yes, probably that, the sun just raised and vanished the chillness of night; this drastic change of temperatures was definitely it and, after all, he was spending the night outside, and his body was sensitive to high degrees, anyway…

It wasn't too long, before Turkey and Cyprus came. The kid ran forward, stopped before the fence and burst out with wild laughter. Turkey hurried after him, futilely trying to calm him by clasping a hand on his shoulder, not quite managing to prevent a huge smile of his own.

"Oh my God, it's worse than I thought!" Cyprus exclaimed, almost choked by his laughing.

"Sha, sha, kid…"

He covered his mouth with his hands, his tiny body shaking violently with every giggle they halted. Turkey calmed himself in a visible effort, and waited until his body calmed, before he led him into the garden, his hand not leaving his shoulder.

"Grandpa!" Cyprus yelled and ran to Yemen now, hugging him tightly; the old man yelped in surprise and screamed something Finland couldn't comprehend, looked down at the boy, smiled and hugged back.

Turkey greeted everyone and sat next to Finland. "You feel fine?"

"S-sure!" Finland started getting pissed of all these questions. "Why you ask?"

"Just wondering. Anyone wants coffee? Tea?"

"Me!" Cyprus exclaimed from Yemens lap.

Finland sighed, "tea, please."

Turkey nodded and headed into the house.

"…the Mongols were everywhere, boy! It was really something, with all the ships they had…"

"Yes, I remember! We dressed like sheep, to confuse them!"

"What a smart boy!" Yemen laughed in satisfy and petted Cyprus shoulder. "But we were more than them. I had a store for rugs once… it was quite a successful business, I even sold some to the Sultan of India."

"The one, who built Taj Mahal! Wasn't it, grandpa?"

"Yes, yes!" Yemen nodded excitedly and turned his head to the rest. "I like this boy!" he laughed, and fixed his eyes back on Cyprus. "What's your name, _ya ibni_?"

"Alejandro Gintaras the 3rd of Lithuania."

"Good boy, good boy!" it was hard to miss the tears of joy, which brightened Yemens eyes.

Turkey returned meanwhile, giving Finland a glass of weak tea. Much to his horror, he also handed Cyprus coffee – just like that, to the day's light, without hesitating, or at least blinking..!

His head span.

"You look horrible, Finland," Cyprus remarked nonchalant.

"That's the heat."

Finland finished the tea slowly, keeping his eyes downcast. That is the heat; it is getting warm, he is sitting outside defencelessly for a while now, so no wonder, he was starting to imagine things. It was also the reason, why everyone asked him about his feeling… he really starts feeling weak by now. Good. That's a plan: they will get back home, he will take a long, freezing shower, and everything will get back to normal!

"Um… Turkey?"

"Yeah?"

"You'll mind, if we'll get back now?"

"Not at all. You wanna come?" he turned to the rest.

"Sure."

"Splendid." Turkey finished his coffee with a chug, took the empty glasses from everyone and got them back into the house. He returned within few seconds and everyone got up, joining them.

Unceremoniously, Finland mumbled he is off for a shower and quickly gathered some clothes, the thought itself of the cold water which soon were going to revive his senses, was enough to rush him.

_Yes, it was a relief._

He got out of shower, with a better feeling he had for a few days now. Only then, he realised what day was that – the second week of the swap, and the beginning of the week when everyone has to follow _his_ rules!

He felt even better, if it was possible, and smiled to himself all the way to the livingroom; now Morocco, Syria and Jordan were there, the latter working on a hookah, and Finland could already smell the bitter aroma of a coffee cooking in finjan, carried from the kitchen.

Morocco was the first to see him; she clenched her hands to her mouth, her eyes growing wide with a silent scream, and once she composed herself, she hurried to hug Finland, pulling his head to her huge chest. "My poor baby!"

Finland coughed and struggled to get away from her vice grip. "W-what..?"

"Oh my _God_…" now Syria saw him, his shocked expression soon changing into a large grin. "Allah… you weren't even exaggerating this time, Cyprus."

"Told ya'," the boy smirked while zipping through channels.

"Man, it looks bad…" he didn't seem too sorry or compassionate for the Finns condition.

"What?.." Finland started losing his confidence.

"Your face, man. They look fried!" Syria laughed.

Finland stared at him for brief moment, stunned, unsure about how exactly he should react. Without saying anything, he ran back to the bathroom, this time caring to have a glance at the mirror.

His shriek was so heartbreaking, Cyprus begun to laugh uncontrollably.

Finland got back, pale despite his burnt face; the dead skin was peeled in some parts. He looked so pained, wretched and hurt, he resembled an abandoned puppy. Morocco choked a sob.

"You got sunburn," Oman mumbled. "I-it doesn't look _that_ bad…" he bite his lower lip. "With some aloevera, it should be over within few days…"

"I'll go bring some!" Morocco volunteered and rushed outside.

She returned a minute after, accompanied by Palestine who seemed clean for once, and grinned awide, puffing her chest with pride. "Good morning, bitches!"

"Whatever you're planning, Palestine, please, keep it away from my house…"

"I'm not planning anything!" the girl exclaimed innocently and crushed into a pouf.

"You're _clean_…"

Lebanon peeked from the kitchen, holding a tray with pitchers of coffee and tea, and glasses. "_Allah yustur_, what's wrong with your face?" he smiled and moaned softly, when Syria pulled him into his lap.

Finland opened his mouth to speak, but was cut by Morocco, "sunburn, like you never seem those before." She turned around to face Finland, carefully lifting his face by the chin with her fingertip, "my poor boy… it breaks my heart, to see you like that." Only then, Finland noticed the weed she held – thick, poisonous grin and thorny in its sides. She squeezed it, spraying a green gel into her hand, she gently spread on his face; it was chilly, and it felt great.

"It should start soothing the burn in no time," Morocco said with a kind smile. "There's no limit for using aloevera, so whenever you're pained, come ask me for some, sweetheart."

"O-okay," Finland blushed.

"Wait, wait," Palestine bent herself forwards, looking at him with glimmering eyes, "it happened yesterday, right?"

"Today," Oman interrupted tiredly, filling a glass of tea and handing it to Finland, "he eas still fine yesterday's eve."

"You're sure?" her smirk faded.

He nodded.

"Oh, crap!" she called dramatically and leaned backwards.

"W-what?.." Finland blinked.

Syria got into his speech, "so, wait, Jordan said today, wasn't her?"

"We both said that!" Lebanon frowned.

"Yes, but I said, it's going to happen by morning," Jordan stated.

"_I_ said that!"

"I have everything written…" Saudia mumbled and pulled a paper out of his pocket. He examined it carefully, showed to Morocco, Oman and Turkey, and only then passed it to the others. "Jordan got it right. He won."

"What you're talking about?.." Finland tried again, without much success either.

Sighing – some groaning and hissing under their breathe – everyone dug their pockets for either coins or paper money, giving it to the smiling Jordan. "The Emirates and Iran also own you. I'll tell them later," Saudia said.

Sick of being left out of that business, Finland coughed loud enough, to get everyone's attention; he cleared his throat awkwardly, when all eyes were hung on him, swallowed and pointed at Lebanon. "You!" he demanded. "Can you finally explain me, what the hell just happened?"

"We had a bet and Jordan won," he shrugged.

"Bet about _what_?"

"How long it's gonna take, before you'll look like your face passed through a microwave."

No one said a word, for the past minutes. Finland couldn't believe his ears – they made a bet, about him, behind his back; on same rate, they could have just punched him in the guts.

"Wow… thanks," he finally said. Even Cyprus and Turkey, the people he now shared the house with, trusted them for looking after him..!

"You're taking it too seriously, man," Syria distorted his face in disparagement. "Like, gee. It's just a bet, not like we're gonna kill you or something. You're overreacting."

_Yes, and that's really comforting!_ Finland thought, but couldn't say anything; he was too hurt. He really started liking those people, to slowly get rid of all prejudges he had about them…

But life goes on, and no body seemed too agitated about that as much as he did. Everyone got their own glasses of coffee and laid back casually, smoked and talked like nothing happened.

Finland remained to stand and looked around uncertainly; no one paid any attention, and moreover, he started feeling like an idiot. He stared at the still warm glass of tea in his hand and allowed a soft, shy smile, sneak to his face. _Maybe, that's just how they show affection…_

The front door kicked open, and a tiny figure burst in, crushed right onto his lap, throwing the both on floor; she was followed by two, even smaller figures, who insisted to smoke despite the heavy coughs it caused them. His glass dropped to the floor and rolled away, the liquid spilled all over the floor.

Israel clung to his chest and cried, soon her tears sunk through the fabric of his shirt to his skin. No one paid any attention, besides Palestine, who sled a scorn glare over their direction, or the Kurds, who crowded them.

Finland felt lost; he could have been the nicest person on earth, but this was just awkward. It took him a few minutes of hesitating, before he brought himself to put a comforting hand on the sobbing girls back and pet it. Through all this time, Israel mumbled to herself something in a mixture of languages, Finland couldn't understand; when she finally seemed to relax, Palestine – an innocent smile smears all over her face – asked in wondering tone, "Ludwig paid you a visit, that you're so excited, cousin?", causing Israel to cry again hysterically.

"Who's Ludwig?" one of the Kurds asked.

Sob.

"Her boyfriend, you idiot. Can't you hear, she's screaming this name in her sleep?" the other Kurd said.

"She does?" Lebanon interrupted, smiling like a maniac.

Sob, a pained one.

"Well, duh!" Kurd #2 lifted his nose expertisely. "Something like, _halten, Ludwig! Neyn! Ich tan nit veln zu gein zu di Sana!_"

Shriek.

"S-stop, please!" Finland put a protective hand on Israels head. "Don't you see, you're making it worse?"

"It's called exaggeration, Finny," Syria said.

"Quiet, everyone!" Finland exclaimed. Surprised by the sudden change of his personality, Palestine, Lebanon and Syria paled and remained silent. Finland looked at them firmly, making sure they are staying like that, nodded in satisfy and resumed his attempts for calming Israel down.

"Do you want to tell me, what happened?" he asked softly.

"He wants to kill me… he wants to get my head off and burn the remains!"

"Y-you mean, Germany?"

Quick nod.

"T-that's what he said?"

"Yes."

"You're lying, cousin," Palestine interrupted, a mad smile breaks into her face. "You said, he told you, he'll hang you but keep you able to stand on a stool with your toes, until you wouldn't stand it, and then he'll let you choke slowly and beg him to finally kill you, so he'll shot you in the stomach and loose the rope just enough to make your death slower…"

The hysteric cry resumed; Palestine and Lebanon didn't even try to make the highfive they had, less visible.

The colour of Finlands face vanished. "H-he really said that?" He couldn't believe his ears. Germany was changed so much, took the full responsibility for anything he had done, and he was working so hard to fix anything that left, especially towards Israel; imaging him speaking to the girl like that, was unbelievable.

"Yes!"

"Don't take it too hard, Finland. He told her that over 60 years ago." Turkey was looking at them behind his glass and even got to offer him a smile, before he returned listen to Jordan, in his speech about what sounded like an endless speak about Westernisation.

Israel was nothing but a shaking and crying pile, leaving Finland with no way to assist. Seeing how Palestine smug face gleed, he finally thought about a possibility of her interfere; however, just when he was about to say something, Iran got in with a huge, satisfied grin. "Someone tell the Zionist, she's the rudest host. Germany was waiting for her for over 20 minutes outside Palestines rightful place, before he gave up."

"Palestine…" Finland forced himself a small smile, when he turned to her, "can it be, _you_ invited Germany over, without telling Israel?"

The gigantic grin, dividing the younger girls face to two halves, was intermediating. "I might have."

"You fuckin' bitch!" Israel screamed, cutting herself from the Finns body just enough to face Palestine. "You fucking little bitch, just wait..!"

"Ah!" Palestine screamed herself and jumped into standing position, pointing at Israel, "ah-ha!" She turned her head around, "you heard? She _is_ planning to kill me!"

"I can testify about that!" Iran said.

"You heard it yourself, didn't you, Finland? She's threatening my life!" Palestine offered him a redeeming, soft smile.

"Yes, but you teased her to begin with," Finland wasn't smiling.

"Forget it, Finland," Israel said quietly, slowly pulling away. She wasn't crying, but a sob made its way through her throat every once in a while. "They hate me."

"They hate her," Kurd #1 confirmed.

Finland completely forgot about them, and the unexpected voice jumped him. "W-what are you doing here?"

"We're planning a deadly attack over Turkey," Kurd #2 said. "So deadly, he'll vanish!"

"And what you're planning, if I may ask?"

"Of course you may, oh, great angel." He pulled a small package wrapped by silver paper, out of an inside pocket in his coat; Kurd #1 waved his hands above it, and stopped as soon as his friend begun to talk. "That's the ultimate weapon. Once it's on, boom!" he clapped his hands, "Turkey's kaput!"

"What exactly is it?"

"An apocalyptic combination," Kurd #1 said.

"Which means?"

"We put deadly stuff in it. We're not sure ourselves."

Finland sighed, trying to keep calm. "And how you're going to use it?"

"We'll put it in the microwave, and once it's on – boom! Turkey's kaput."

"Yes, you said that."

"Maybe, we can use it now?" despite the sunglasses that covered half of his face, Finland could tell Kurd #1 was staring at his friend eagerly; the other looked just the same. He nodded, and grabbed Kurd #1 arm. He parted his lips, ready to say something, but the smoke of his cigarette got to his nose and he coughed. Kurd #1 started to cough simultaneously.

"Let's go, brother!" Kurd #2 called with twittering voice. The two threw their fists to the air with a strangled battle cry, and stormed to the kitchen. No one cared about their plans, despite their loud speech; and yet, as soon as Morocco recognised their destination, she frowned angrily and quickly got up, screaming, "don't you _dare_!"

Israel wiped her face and breathed deeply. "Thank you, Finland," she said softly and offered him a sad smile, seconds before she pulled him into a tight hug. He petted her back, smiling kindly. "You're welcome."

"Be careful, Finland, she's gonna stab you in the back!" Iran laughed flatly. He was sitting on a pouf next to Palestine, Lebanon and Syria, burying his hands in his pockets, all four smiling sarcastically.[1]

"Yes," Palestine confirmed. "Careful now, she's unstable."

Israel reviled them a hatefully glare, to which they remained unaffected. Then she smirked, and said, in a similar tone to Palestines, "please, Israil, I need some money, you're my only hope! Please, my sweet cousin..!"

Palestine frowned. "I never said that!"

"Oh, really, Palestine? Funny, you asked for that only this morning."

"You can't prove it."

"Right. I can't." Israel's smile increased. "But the security cameras can."

The smaller girl paled. "T-that's blackmail!"

"I'm not going to use this video against you," Israel knitted her eyebrows in anger diluted with insult. "Although, maybe I should. America would definitely love to hear you calling him a gullible idiot."

"You won't dare!"

"Don't try me."

Palestine made a miserable voice and stuck her lower lip out. Meanwhile, Morocco got back, dragging the Kurds out of kitchen by their ears. "They have more strength than I thought, these though," she said and led go, shooting at them a fierce glare. "If I'll find any of you inside the kitchen – _especially_ by accident – I'll make sure, you wouldn't go a millimetre without wheelchair for a long time. Was I clear?" She used her lowest, most threatening tone, even Finland learnt to wary about. The Kurds, shuddering like leaves, nodded quickly. "Good," Morocco exclaimed and nodded in satisfy, before taking her sit back.

No one saw Armenia getting inside before he was already in, holding a single daffodil. He nonchalantly ignored Turkey, whom he made sure to pass right in front of, and headed straight to Israel, giving her the flower. "I found it in Turkey's garden. It's a waste, such a beautiful flower is in a place like that, and not owned by you."

Israel took the flower with a gentle smile and kissed his cheek. "That's so kind of you, Armenia!"

The latter blushed and smiled foolishly.

"If you're done ruining my garden, I'd like you out of this place," Turkey grinded.

"You eject me so quickly, Turkey? That's pretty rude, for someone who's so keen about good hospitality." He spoke quietly, his voice low and bitter, and his hand automatically digging in his pocket for a cigarette, which he pulled out and hung by the corner of his lips, as he talked.

Turkey didn't say a word. Despite the mask, Finland could tell he was glancing at Armenia in despise, as the latter lit his cigarette and inhaled. "What do you want?" he finally squirted.

Armenia rolled his eyes. "I told you a few days ago. America wants me to try standing you. I'm not quite a fond of the idea, but America probably knows more than you."

"_Right._"

Armenia sat next to Israel on floor, a few metres away from the rest, and the two immediately started speaking in a language Finland couldn't recognise. Iran distorted his face, muttering, "why they insist speaking Farsi?"

"They're jealous of your language?" Lebanon shrugged, finishing the sentence with a small yelp. "I didn't give you a permission to talk!" Syria snapped, and pulled the smaller onto his embrace as he leant backwards.

"Khat!"

Yemen stood up, a leaf is held between two fingers of his stretched hand. He remained so for a minute, his shining eyes fixed at the leaf, before he got it into his mouth and chewed, returning to sit.

The Kurds jumped in front of the old man. "Give us your khat!" Kurd #1 exclaimed, "or we'd have to take one by force!"

"Khat!"

"Yes, that's what we want!" Kurd #1 begun losing his patience.

Yemen pulled the dough out of his mouth.

"Thanks for your cooperation, old man!" Kurd #2 said and took it, divided it to two halves and got it into his own mouth without flinching the slightest; the other Kurd did the same shortly after.

"Y-you gave them khat, father?" Oman was on the edge of crying.

"Don't worry, _ya ibni_, I have tones of that!"

Oman mumbled something desperately and sunk back onto the cushions of his sit.

A dark figure appeared by the threshold. It was bleary, dull, tattered, his eyes flickering madly, and it was hard to not sense the chillness, he carried with him.

Iran looked at him in disgust. "Kuwait's not here, you psycho. Now go away."

Iraq groaned. Iran shuddered and shrunk; Syria got Lebanon off his lap, to have him asit next to him, and bent forwards protectively.

"Get inside, Iraq. You wanna have some coffee?" Turkey smiled. Iraq nodded slowly. "I'll go make it," Morocco volunteered and got up, Iraq instantly taking over her sit.

It hit him again. That is the day, of swapping the rules! Finland smiled in relief and giggled.

All eyes turned to him.

"He finally got mad!" Cyprus declared, not ripping his eyes from the TV screen.

"Oh?" Finland blinked. As soon as he got it, he laughed nervously and flailed his hands, "n-no, no. I… eh…" he cleared his throat. "You know, what day is it?"

"Tuesday?" Jordan lifted an eyebrow.

"Yes. Which means, the second part of the swap begins!"

"Excuse me?" Saudia asked, confused. He scouted asides, to make place to Iraq as Morocco shooed him, once she returned with the coffee.

"During last week, I was following your daily routine, right?"

"Yes."

"So, now, I'll present you new house rules, based on my own daily routine, which you have to follow. You'll mind to sit in one unit? On… this couch?" he pointed at the one Cyprus was sitting on, being the largest one in sight. Everyone nodded and turned to sit there – some dragged single cushion or pouf along – and after five minutes of arguments and screams, they got to settle themselves.

Finland examined his work with pride. He shut the TV off – much to Cyprus dramatic scream of pain – and stood right in front them, putting his hands on his waists.

"Now, that everyone's here, I guess we can start, eh?"

_-Fin-_

_Ya ibni –_ son (Arabic)

_Ya Allah –_ God (Arabic)

_Walla_ – Arabian slang for 'wow!', 'really!' or anything of this sort

_Āma_ – uncle (Arabic)

_Szhukran, ya habibi_ – thanks, mate (Arabic)

_Allah yustur_ – God helps (Arabic)

_Halten, Ludwig! Neyn! Ich tan nit veln zu gein zu di Sana!_ – stop, Ludwig! No! I don't wanna go to the Sauna! (Yiddish. In concentration and death camps, Sauna was the common name for the building, the people who were brought to the camp were executed by gas.

[1] Israelis should get the joke: in all media channels, and often on the everyday speech, Syria, Lebanon and Iran (sometimes, Palestine included) are defined "the Axis of Evil"; that is, for whenever representatives of said countries have summit, it's usually a big event showed on TV, when there is always a part, where they start speaking against Israel.

**A/N:** I had to divide this chapter to two halves, as it passed the 7,000 words. The second part is already written, and I'll post it shortly.


	18. Day 8: Finland's POV Part II

**Wife Swap**

**DAY 8 – FINLAND'S POV**

**PART II**

"Now, that everyone's here, I guess we can start, eh?"

He smiled kindly, surveying the now quiet group with determine gaze, deliberated to stop any possible rebel on time.

"Kuwait isn't here," Iraq grinded.

"Yes, I'll give her and the Emirates a brief as soon as they're back here. Anyway, like I said, today's the first day of the actual swap, for you at least. As for a start… does anyone know anything about my place?"

"It's cold!" Lebanon jumped.

"Yes, that's true, Lebanon. Thank you. Anyone else?"

"It's where you're from!" Kurd #2 jumped.

"Of course, that's where he's from, you idiot!" Kurd #1 snapped. "You should've said, it's called Finland."

"It's called Finland!" Kurd #2 repeated.

"No! I wanted to say that!"

"Anyone who wants to talk, please, raise your hand!" Finland sighed. He started feeling more and more like a kindergartener, but if that is what make them quiet, he wouldn't prevent that. "But, yes, you also right. Else..?"

Israel raised a hand.

"Yes?"

"It's lo –" she started, and was immediately cut by Lebanon, who jumped and said, "it's located by the Arctic Circle, and borders Russia, Sweden and Norway!"

"That's right, but you shouldn't interrupt to other's speech…"

"Someone was talking?" Lebanon asked with pretended innocent, smirking.

"You know that, Lebanon. Now, apologise to her."

"Apology to whom?"

"To Israel."

"I can't apology, to someone who doesn't exist."

"She's sitting right next to you."

"Syria is sitting right next to me."

Finland forced himself a small smile, trying hard to keep himself calm. "Lebanon… stop dissembling, and ask Israel for apology. We don't have the whole day."

"I told you, Finny, I can't give any apology, to something that ain't exist! That's schizophrenic!"

"Lebanon." Finland lowered his voice. The effect was immediate; the boy tensed, and moved himself closer to Syria. "Please. I ask you as a friend, to stop with these stupid games. I don't care, _what_ problems you two have, I don't care what you think about her and I don't care, if you want to keep acting like a child. I do expect you to behave, and give your _cousin_ an apology, for interrupting her speech. Was I clear enough?"

"Crystal clear," Lebanon gulped.

"It won't say itself, unless you'd say it, Lebanon."

"I-I can't."

"You can't?"

"No."

"No – you can? Or, no, you can't?"

"I can't."

Finland sighed. Those guys were too stubborn, he estimated; he would need a lot more than that, to get to change anything about them. "We'll talk about this later, Lebanon," he said, knowing exactly how it is going to affect this boy, and smiled again. "Okay. It looks, you don't really know much about my country, after all. Like Lebanon –" he shot a quick glance at the yelping boy, "– said, my house is by the Arctic Circle, and is a bridge between Russia to the Scandinavian Peninsula. Which is, naturally, why it is so cold there," he drew a glance at the Kurds, seeing if they got any of his words. They didn't, but he moved on. "However, my people and I defined different than the rest of Scandinavia. Can anyone tell me why?"

Israel raised a hand. Syria saw it, launched himself forwards with stretched arm, shoving her away. "'cause you're closer to Russia!"

Somehow, the idea of smashing his head against the wall was quite tempting. Finland resisted this urge just barely, and facepalmed instead. "No," his voice was more decisive than he meant, but he didn't care; he preferred them cautious of him, hoping, it will calm the off. "And please, _don't _ compare me to Russia again," he demanded.

"Why not?" Syria raised an eyebrow in honest surprise. "He's a good guy."

"We've got some… issues," Finland sighed. "I'd like not get into this."

"Whatever," Syria shrugged.

Finland forced himself a smile and turned to Israel. "You wanted to speak?"

"What's the point?" she sighed bitterly, "no one's going to listen, anyway."

"I will," Armenia said.

"You aren't count!" Turkey interrupted with frustrated exclaim.

Armenia got up, turning his body to him angrily, "you won't keep me silent again, Turkey! I had enough of _your_ crap for the rest of my life, _you_ got to ruin!"

"Y-you filthy liar..!"

"You murderer!"

"Shut it, you son of a bitch!"

"Make me, asshole!"

"Yo, _baba_, I wouldn't let it pass in silent…" Cyprus jumped on his sit, looking at the two in excite.

"What kind of example you give to your son!" Armenia shouted out.

"Now you're getting waaay too low…"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Maybe, you should watch your tongue, then!"

"Look who's speaking!"

"If you have any problem with it, come face it like a man! I've had enough of your denials!"

"You're expecting me to recognise something I haven't done, how'd you expect me to come and say that I did it? Besides, no one else's here disagrees!" he turned his head around, "do you?"

Quite hums and louder voices of agreement came out from all over. Turkey grinned awide in approval, to which Armenia snorted and frowned. "Of course they do, they're biased. But, Israel, you agree with me, right?"

"About what?" the girl paled.

"What Turkey has done to me."

Israel started to shiver; she tried to speak up, but not a single voice was heard. She gulped, cleared her throat, gulped again and paled even more; tears started to pool in her eyes. "I-I'm so sorry, Armenia," she whispered after a while, looking at him with pained gaze. "You know, I can't[2]… please, forgive me..!" she started crying.

"D-don't cry, _Israyel_…" Armenia murmured and put a hand on her opposite shoulder, rubbing it gently.

"Y-you know I _want_ to..!"

"Yes. But, don't cry. You're not the only one, Turkey keeps their mouth shut…"

"I don't keep anyone's mouth shut!"

"You keeps mine, for over 80 years!"

"Oh, really, I can see, how your mouth is shut now…"

"That's 'cause I stopped being mister nice guy!"

"You never were!"

"You know, he has _some_ point, _ya Turk_. You're quite an ass sometimes," Syria said, leaning his head on Lebanon's shoulder.

"For which side you stand?" Turkey frowned. Syria shrugged and started nibbling Lebanon's neck, much to the younger discomfort. "That's not an answer!"

"Well, life can get you unanswered sometimes," Lebanon hummed, making a small moan.

"That's what the Azeris said –" Armenia twisted, "– when they rebelled our glorious Empire!" Yemen exclaimed and jumped to stand, "but e gave them some khat and everything settled down! I was the Tatar king's best man, you know…" Oman motioned him to sit back besides him, burying his face in his palms as Yemen begun to talk about the speaking goldfish, he had.

"Stop that! All of you, stop!" Finland screamed.

Everyone shut at once and settled themselves quickly, al pale. Surprised by his own action, Finland blinked, but recovered before they could get any chance to quarrel again.

"Listen up now," he said firmly, "I'm going to give you some house rules, you're to follow for the coming week. That's the point of this programme, so neither of you is exempt. So far, everything's clear?"

"Nothing's clear," Armenia commented bitterly. "The whole world is rotten…"

"And that's relevant for his speech, because?" Lebanon snorted.

"I was answering his question, in case you didn't listen."

"No, you just spoke completely out of context. That's pretty stupid, man."

"Just shut up, Armenia," Iran interrupted.

"I forgot, you're on his side," Armenia pulled out a cigarette, hanging it by the corner of his lips. He was just about to lit it, when Finland ripped it away. "First rule, no smoking inside the house! Smoking is unhealthy, anyway, so you better not make it worse!"

"What you're talking about?" Armenia frowned, visibly annoyed.

"No smoking inside the house. It was quite a clear one, actually." Finland frowned in return. "The house is all ashy, thanks to your cigarettes. It's even worse, if you didn't see it yourself through all this time, means that you're already used to it."

"And if we do, so?" Syria raised an eyebrow. "It's not like we're committing a crime."

"Yes, but think of the damage, you do for your health; you're making it worse by smoking indoors, for then the smoke never leaves."

"So what's the difference, if we'll smoke indoors or not? You said yourself, the smoke is already in," Armenia frowned.

"It's 'cause of you!" Turkey snapped and jumped to standing at once. "If you weren't insisting to smoke those goddamn cigarettes of you..!"

"Actually," Finland cleared his throat, "it's because of you all. You're damaging your health, and as long as I'm here, I won't accept that."

"Why you'd care about that from first place?" Syria frowned.

"Trust me, Syria, I care."

"I didn't ask if you do, I asked why."

The Finn frowned this time. "Oh, you want to know why? Maybe, because I spent a whole week with you, guys, and just like you enough to care about you?"

"You like us?" Syria asked slowly, carefully, as if he doesn't believe a word. Finland felt hurt, but it was over after several minutes: he had no reason to be offended, he rationalised, as those people are just cautious by their nature, and it has nothing personal.

"Yes, I do," he confirmed, smiling reassuringly. "Well, I know it's a short period of time, but I really do like you all, as much as I'm getting used to you."

"If you like us, you can marry my son!" Yemen called, nudging the irritated looking Oman.

"It's a guy, father. And he's already married…"

"Sure he feels the humidity, _ya ibni_!"

Oman groaned and buried his face in his palms.

"So we're allowed to smoke? Yes or no?" Jordan asked.

"No! Don't you ever pay attention, for what I say?" Finland was desperate.

"No for cigarettes, right?" Jordan tried.

"No for cigarettes, cigars, and that hookah thing."

"Goddamn you, Jordan, you asshole!" Syria snapped. "You _had_ to ask?"

"At least one of you cares about the swap thing," Finland silent him with a glare.

"We all do, Finland, really," Turkey said carefully. "But, c'mon, no hookah? It's basic!"

"So you'll have to handle without it. You're mature enough to accept it at once," Finland sighed.

"But no smoking – only inside the house, you said…" Jordan started.

"No shit, Jordan! Shut up, you're feeding his brain with ideas..!" Syria yelled.

"I'm just repeating him, he allowed us to smoke outside," Jordan frowned.

"So why you ask, you idiot? He might regret!"

"I reminded him, so he won't come blame us later!"

"Angel!" Kurd #2 screamed; the two sprawled on ground in front him, Kurd #1 held his legs while Kurd #2 flailed desperately. "Angel, you can't prevent us cigarettes!"

"L-let go of me..!"

"Oh, angel, if I cold only get your holy light upon my bleeding heart…" Kurd #1 flickered, crushing the fabric of the Finn pants between his fingers.

"W-what?.."

Kurd #2 looked around, motioning Finland to bend with a nod. "Listen up, pretty face," he said, throwing a hand around Finland's nape, much to the latter discomfort. "You can't take our cigarettes away. Y'know what I mean? We have reputation to preserve, if you know what I mean. We're the cool guys, y'know what I'm saying?.."

Finland took the Kurd's hand and moved it away gently. "Yes, I know what you're saying. But I don't care; I followed your rules for a week, and now it's your turn…"

"Hush! Don't say it aloud!" Kurd #2 shrieked and returned his hand to the Finn. "Let's do it cool, pretty face. like, no one else but us can smoke, yes?"

"No, no, no! Stop that!" Finland frowned, removing the hand once more. "No one is smoking indoors, and that's it! And if you will keep arguing, no one smokes at all!"

"Including Turkey?" Kurd #1 looked up with wet face; it didn't take Finland too long to realise, he was licking his shoe. Finland distorted his face and tried to shake the Kurd away, but it was hopeless. He sighed. "Including Turkey."

The Kurds stared at each other.

Turkey launched himself forwards, clenching at the handrest. "You don't…"

Kurd #1 led out such laughter, Finland shuddered. "Oh, yes, Turkey, yeees!" he thrilled his voice in a ghost-like tone.

"You're insane…"

"Is that so, pity Turkey?" Kurd #2 interrupted.

"Don't test my patience, you rat…"

"We're getting you stressed, big boy?" Kurd #1 teased, finally letting go of the Finn.

"Okay, that's it…"

"Come take us, if you dare!"

"You're gonna regret…"

Turkey was halfway from getting up, when a phone rang. Everyone froze at once, nervously listening to the soft melody, of Chopin Nocturne Op 48 No.1.

"Hallo?" Iraq squeaked. He hummed something incoherent, emitting a guttural "yeah" every once and then. "No, I don't mind the delay, Mrs," he said courteously, looking unexpectedly calm. "You don't have to pay me back, Mrs. It's a minor mistake; the intention itself is enough. Yeah…" Everyone exchanged pale faces. "You're sure, Mrs? It's too much of you, but I'd love that. Blue daisies, yeah." Iran lifted an eyebrow. "You sound like a fair woman, I daresay, Mrs. I'm counting on your good taste. Yeah, thank you very much, Mrs. Have a good day you, too."

Finland gulped and took a deep breathe. Such softness seemed so far than Iraq, this whole situation felt surreal; anyone else seemed so astonished, he was afraid to ruin the moment.

Iraq frowned, reducing angrily between splint lips.

"W-well then," Finland cleared his throat. "So we set the first rule, of not smoking indoors. Which leads us to the second rule – you're not getting into someone else's house, unless you're invited."

"I don't get it," Syria said.

"I noticed, you entre each other's houses like they were your own. Second rule is to stop that; I understand, you enjoy those visits, but there's another way to do so." He paused and locked his eyes on Lebanon, smiling. "Come over, please. I need your help demonstrating."

Lebanon hesitated but got up. Finland smiled down at him, "I want you to get out, and when I'll give you a sign, get back the way you usually do, when you come visit someone."

Lebanon nodded and got up. Finland led a few seconds pass, and said, "you can get in."

Lebanon didn't wait until Finland finished the sentence and got inside as casually, as if it was his own home, and settled himself back on couch.

"This is really how you'd get to someones place?" Finland asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay. Get up again, please…" so he did, "we'll try something else now. When I give you a sign, get inside, but knock the door first."

Lebanon nodded and went out. "Go ahead." Lebanon knocked the door on same time he opened it, and headed straight to couch again. Finland stopped him just before he sat down. "We'll try again, but this time, knock the door and wait until someone calls you."

Lebanon went out. Finland didn't call him this time, but only stared at the front door, waiting; Lebanon got inside again in less than a minute. "I knocked!" he justified himself to Finland's profound stare. "No one responded, I thought something happened..!"

"Get back to sit," Finland sighed heavily. Surely is, those people were stubborn, and knew how to get what they wanted. There was nothing Finland could do about that, but make a personal care to prevent it, whenever that happens.

"You'd have to call someone you want to invite, too," Finland continued, somewhat expecting the shocked stares he received. "Back in my house, everyone calls, to confirm that the person they want to come to, is available for a visit."

"What'dya mean?" Iraq groaned, his frown darkens his face.

Finland didn't lose his guard. "Maybe, the person you want to visit isn't at home, or is sick, or just want some time alone…"

"Then we'd go give them some company!" Syria said.

"That's exactly the point. Sometimes, people want to be alone," Finland sighed.

"Why'd they do it? It's boring," Syria snorted.

"I-it's not boring…" Finland blinked, and sighed. "Never mind. Still, you have to call first, and make sure the one you want to visit, wants you to come."

"I wouldn't mind anyone to come, if they want," Lebanon said, shrugging, "accept for the Zionist."

"They'd still have to call you first."

"Why can't I just give my permission now, so they wouldn't bother to?" Lebanon frowned.

"Because that's the rule."

"I don't like your rules," Lebanon hissed and snuggled further onto Syria's lap, the latter wrapping his arms around him instantly.

Finland led go of a deep, exhausted sigh.

"Third rule," he said, sounding frustrated despite his intents. "Israel, you have to stop with the security chekups, when someone tries getting to your house."

"W-what?" Israel paled, staring at him in betrayal. "Y-you're not serious, Finland! I can't… I can't do that! If I'll do so, they'll hurt me!"

"They can harm you on street just the same," Finland stated, crossing his arms firmly. A quick glance at Israel, was enough to notice she has got into one of her panic attacks at once: she lost the remains of colour she still got on her face and started to shiver; her eyes got enormously wide, and she scanned her surrounding like a mad, humming to herself.

"Perkele..!" Finland snapped, grabbing his head. Of course, he just _had_ to say that! "Perkele!" He's so stupid! Like coping a whole family of nuts wasn't enough, now, he also has to handle this…

"I can knock her off, if you want," Palestine smirked.

"I-I'd rather you not, really…"

Armenia sighed, looking very tired all sudden. "I'll handle that," he said.

"Yes! Please!" Turkey jumped on his sit, "go away!"

"No." Armenia rolled his eyes and gently nudged Israel into his embrace. "They'd never understand us, Ella. Scha, scha…" he stroked her hair, leaning her head on the crook of his shoulder, "everyone have their breaking points. Ignore them, Turkey feeds their brains with crap…"

"Watch your words, bastard! You're in _my_ house!" Turkey hissed.

"Don't you speak to an old man like that, asshole!" Armenia spitted.

"An old man shouldn't speak like that, either!"

"S-shut up!" Finland screamed, tossing his head desperately. "You're getting way down, I cannot accept that!" He took a deep breathe, trying ever so hard to regain his compose. "Now," a fake smile creaked to his lips, "I'm going to move on, and you're going to forget about that silly fight of you. Was I clear?"

Turkey sighed and nodded, smiling in return. "Yes."

"I guess so," Armenia closed his eyes.

"Good," Finland spoke slowly, aware for the didactic tone he used. He paused to get back to his usual self and turned to Armenia, "when she calms, can you tell her, I won't enforce rule 3?"

"Yeah."

"Good," Finland nodded, satisfied. "So, rule number three. I know, it's just how things are like in your place, but sometimes, you're too friendly…"

Syria pouted. "What you're trying to say?" he snapped, "that you don't like the way we treat you?"

"N-no! not at all," Finland said, "I really appreciate that. But, in my place, we don't quite show so much of emotions, like you do. I… I don't say, it's wrong, but we just prefer to keep things to ourselves. You… understand, what I mean?" losing his confidence, Finland looked around with worried face.

"Oh?" Yemen exclaimed.

"We… we prefer to stay quiet. Not say much, that is…"

"Oh?" Yemen exclaimed again.

"Then you way, _we're_ preventing basic rights!" Iran interrupted, fuming, "keeping your own people shut, by the guise of introvertedness..!"

"Wow, Iran. Chill," Morocco lifted an eyebrow, looking irritated. She was silent for most of the time – something Finland couldn't miss, and appreciated – and even now sneakered at her visible urge to release her anger. "That's just a personal character, alright?"

"It's a conspiracy…" Iran muttered and crossed his arms, sinking backwards into the cushions.

Finland gave her a meaningful glance, receiving a soft smile in return, smiled back and turned to speak. "I-I'm not going to demand you staying calm, I… I know, it's not you, and I don't want to change you on personal level, okay..?" Turkey caught his wandering gaze and smiled, encouraging him to move further on. "I… it's just some new manners, alright? I don't want you to stop being friendly, just… more official..?"

"What he's trying to say," Turkey continued him, turning to face the rest, "he wants us to stay just like that, but just give more personal space to each other. Is that what you meant for, Finland?" he looked at him.

"Y-yes. That's it," the latter smiled thankfully, letting out a relieved sigh.

"What does it mean?" Iran insisted, wiggling his eyebrows uprights.

"Means that on meeting, for example, you'll shake each other's hand, instead of kissing and hugging," Finland said.

"But if that's someone we love?" Syria got into his speech.

"Well, you can greet them however you want, but, since you all seem to love each other –" he preferred to ignore the violent coughs Palestine emitted, "– I'd ask you greet everyone more politely, even if you love them, for this week only."

Syria exchanged looks with Turkey and eventually sighed. "Alright. I think, we can do it."

"G-great!" Finland smiled. He took a deep breathe. "Forth rule's going to be quite harsh to everyone, but… you have to decrease the amounts of coffee and sweets, you costume."

The pitch silence undermined Finland, who gulped and felt how a frozen wave slopped through his spine, when all eyes turned to him in shock. Then, Syria snickered; he was followed by a great smile from Lebanon's direction, and a chuckle from Iran. "That's a bad joke alright…" Syria said.

"I'm serious," Finland responded quietly, trying to keep his voice as stern as possible.

"No way, dude."

"Rules are rules."

All colour of Syria's face disappeared at once. "Y-you gave up the kike..!"

"For obvious reasons."

"Y-you can't do it!" even his voice was panicked now.

"Just did."

"No!" Cyprus screamed; he held at the armrest firmly, smiling like a mad. "N-no way, you're going to prevent us sweets! Ha… haha…" the boy laughed unstably, making Finland wonder if it's a true reaction, or just a tasteless attempt to dissuade him from his decision.

"Actually, Cyprus, you're the main reason for this rule," Finland said carefully, too terrified to look at everyone else but the now shaking boy, although this very reaction was intermediating all the same; the boy switched and emitted such miserable voice, Finland had no doubt now, he was just addicted. "You costume way too much sugar and caffeine, someone in your age should. I-it ruins your systems…" he continued.

"I-it ain't!" Cyprus screamed, "I-I'm just as normal as they come! You're speaking absolutely nonsense, ha! Haha…"

"I'm not completely preventing you from sweets, Cyprus, just make it only once a day from now…"

"You can't do this to me!" Cyprus screamed and threw himself forwards, grasping at one of Finland's legs. "You can't do this to me!"

"P-please, Cyprus…" Finland paled.

"Have you no heart, Finland?" Iran snapped, putting a hand on Cyprus shoulder and carefully getting him back to his sit. "You made the boy cry."

"H-he's not crying…"

"Well, you got my point," Iran frowned.

Armenia tsked. "And you think, you're making a good educative example?"

Iran narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly," Armenia sighed and groped his pocket for a cigarette; he has got to put it in his mouth, just before Finland perceived it and shot him a glare. "It's starting now?" Armenia asked, sounding more like a five years old, trying to convince his father to give up on a punishment. Finland nodded and stretched out his arm. Armenia sighed again, making it as wretched as he can, and put the cigarette in his palm. "Just to let you know," he said bitterly, "I really don't like it."

"I know, but that's it," Finland shrugged and tucked the cigarette in his pocket, intending to get rid of it later.

"It's pretty depressing, too."

Finland smiled awkwardly; Armenia frowned and huffed, lying backwards; Finland couldn't miss the suckling spasms he made.

"So coffee and sweets – just once a day, after lunch."

"Why not after dinner?" Jordan asked.

"You wouldn't sleep well, if you do. The sugar and caffeine will get you unease…" Finland started, swallowing his words at once; his eyes went wide, and an understanding gaze broke to his face. "Oh. Of course."

"What?" Syria frowned.

"The sugar!" Finland exclaimed. "The sugar! Of course..!"

"What?.."

"You costume so much sugar, no wonder, you're so restless all the time! Of course!" he smiled. "Don't you see, you damage yourself?"

"Nope?"

"Well, you do!"

"Hey." Kurd #1 straightened up from his place on floor; he just laid there, his limbs sprawled all over. "You know," he said, "I really can't sleep after I drink coffee."

"Really?" his friend interrupted, lifting an eyebrow. "Strange… in my case, it's the complete opposite – I can't drink coffee, after I sleep."

"How strange…" the two were looking at each other in amazement.

"Okay, okay, everyone," Finland said, "last rule – from this moment and until the swap ends, I'll do the cooking."

Morocco flinched. "You alone?"

"Yes."

She took a deep breathe.

"That's all for now," Finland said, smiling lightly. "I-I think, we will call it a day, eh?"

Turkey sighed. "Yeah."

"Alright then!" he clapped his hands, widening his smile, "everyone, time to get back home!"

"You _eject_ us?" Palestine exclaimed and jumped. "I should've known!"

"N-no!" Finland hurried to say, waving his hands, "y-you get it all wrong! Remember rule 3?"

"What? That the Jew should give me my rightful house?" Palestine smiled.

"No. the one, about giving more personal space to each other," he said. Palestine lifted an eyebrow, and he sighed. "You have your own houses, right?"

"I don't. The bitch took over mine," Palestine sighed dramatically, receiving a sympathising glances from Syria, Lebanon and Iran.

"It's _my_ rightful place, Palestine!" Israel frowned, looking hurt. "And, besides, you're still living there!"

"In a garage!" Palestine screamed. "Garage!" she turned her face to the awkward Finland.

"Y-you decided to move there!"

"You locked me in, bitch!"

"No, you were just stupid enough, to forget the key!"

"So give it to me!"

"No!"

"Out!" Finland looked pretty shocked, seeing Turkey standing up and waving his hands. "Rule 3, now, good night! Out!"

Not a single one of them relinquished the chance to shot Turkey an angry glare, some hissing quietly; Turkey let it pass and shooed them outside, shutting the door close as soon as Oman got to drag Yemen out.

"Thanks," Finland said quietly, offering Turkey a fatigue smile.

The latter smiled, petting Finland's shoulder, "it's nothing. Get back to sleep now, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good night, Finland."

"Good night, Turkey, Cyprus."

Cyprus pouted; he rolled his eyes when Turkey shot him a glare, deepening his frown. "Good night, party crasher," he mused.

_-Fin-_

[2] Although many Israelis are tending to regard Armenians as very dear and closed to them, for their mutuality of tragic past, the state of Israel refuses to officially recognise the Armenian Holocaust, knowing that it would taint to completely destroy all diplomatic relations with Turkey; even nowadays, when Israel and Turkey are in their worse ebb, Israeli seniors keep this issue concealed.


End file.
